


Strings Attached

by lori (zakhad)



Series: Captain and Counselor [49]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-15 05:30:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 121,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5773129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/lori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's just the way they are, don't bother taking notes."</p><p>Some things change you a little. Some things change you a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hold on, to me as we go.  
As we roll down this unfamiliar road.  
And although this wave is stringing us along.  
Just know you’re not alone,  
Cause I’m going to make this place your home.

Settle down, it'll all be clear.  
Don't pay no mind to the demons,  
They fill you with fear.  
The trouble it might drag you down.  
If you get lost, you can always be found.

Just know you’re not alone,  
Cause I’m going to make this place your home.

 

Philip Phillips, Home

 

~^~^~^~

 

Yves noticed people staring at him. He tried not to, but he liked to people-watch on starbases. The problem was, he would find people looking back at him. A good number of the folks he looked at looked away quickly when they saw him paying attention to them.

"You are distressed."

He glanced up at Lieutenant-Commander deLio and the other three L'norim in his family group. Two of the other three were also Enterprise officers, both lieutenants, one in security under deLio and the other in sciences. The fourth was what L'norim called the ghif, the one Yves thought of as female though everyone, including the others in the family group, used masculine pronouns in reference to her. zeRia put a hand on his shoulder, her response to deLio's bland assessment.

"People are staring at me. Again. It's like walking with Papa through Starfleet Command, everyone looks at me that way. It's because of Papa."

"This isn't Command and most of those people are not in Starfleet." deVin gestured at a group of Bajorans. "I doubt they know who your father is. I suspect that it's because you are with four L'norim."

Yves grinned. "Yeah, I guess that must be it."

He bounced his springball racquet on his leg as he followed deLio, with deVin and seKahl on either side and zeRia following him, like an honor guard. He saw another group, this time six Starfleet officers, staring at them. A wild urge struck him.

"Hey!"

The officers glanced at each other in surprise.

"Yeah, you! Haven't you ever seen a cross-species adoption before? Next time take a picture!"

All four L'norim stopped and eyed him. deLio smiled faintly. "We have told you before, son, you should not make a spectacle of the family."

deVin cuffed Yves' shoulder. "Do not invite people to take pictures. We do not wish to be in the media again. If you continue to behave poorly, we shall return you to the Orion traders from whom we purchased you."

"Vin shel kha!" zeRia muttered. "Do not tease the boy. He is your captain's son."

deVin and seKahl each took one of his arms and the group passed the officers, who now looked askance at them. deLio, who was in uniform, waved and moved on as if nothing were wrong.

"You guys are trying to get me in trouble, aren't you?"

"We are going to play springball." seKahl let go of him and bounced his springball racquet off Yves' head. "You are trying to get into trouble."

"All right, I'm sorry." Yves shook off deVin's hand. "I'm just tired of people staring at me, you know?"

"You should learn to ignore it. People look at us often. We assume it is because they have not seen a L'norim family group before."

"But the Federation's full of all kinds of people. Why should one more kind be a surprise?"

They reached the springball courts and found an unoccupied one. The L'norim were his usual springball partners on the _Enterprise_ , but the baryon sweep had driven everyone off the ship for the afternoon. Since Papa had taken some old friend out for lunch, Amy and the twins had stayed with Guinan, and Maman was taking a shuttle out with some cadets for pilot training, Yves had elected to challenge the security chief and his mates to a friendly tournament. Usually he could only schedule a game with one of them at a time. He looked forward to seeing them play with each other -- the L'norim were impressive in action.

seKahl bounced the ball a few times, swatted it, and the five of them began warm-ups, bouncing the ball around the enclosure at random and taking turns striking it. In between his turns, Yves watched deLio and deVin, their jowls bouncing as they moved in to strike the ball, and compared them to seKahl and zeRia. seKahl had fewer folds of skin around his chin and neck and darker gray skin, so dark it looked almost black in certain lighting. His eyes weren't pale green like deLio's and deVin's, but reddish-orange with streaks of black -- alarming if you didn't know seKahl. 

zeRia was in her own category with bright red eyes, mottled green skin, no skin folds around her face, a higher, flatter nose, and a quickness paired with a mercurial temper that made her dangerous to strangers when she was alone. It was why she hadn't joined Starfleet, and why she never left quarters unless one of the other three were with her. The ghif were like that, deLio said, because they were traditionally the ones who cared for and protected the children. As former predators in a complicated food chain those instincts had once served the L'norim well.

As usual, Yves had a hunch they weren't playing their best because he was there. He won against seKahl, lost against deLio, rotated back into game play to lose to zeRia, and later rotated in and won against deVin. He knew all four of them had to be better than to lose at all to a twelve-year-old human. Still, it was good exercise for all of them, and they didn't obviously miss shots or appear to exert less effort when playing with him.

They humored him on the way back to the ship, letting him tell them a string of jokes they probably didn't understand. He only told them because they had demanded he behave naturally in their presence, and he liked telling jokes. It took his mind off people's curious glances their way.

They were stopped by a security detachment before they reached the transporter pads. One of the officers Yves had shouted at was with them. The lead security officer addressed deLio, the only one in uniform. "We'd like to ask you a few questions."

"I know what this is about," deLio said. "This is Yves Picard, my commanding officer's son. We often play springball with him. He gets tired of people staring at him, so when the lieutenant and his friends did so, he retaliated."

"By claiming to be adopted by you?" the lieutenant exclaimed, disbelieving. 

"I do not pretend to understand human humor, but I can recognize it."

"You won't mind if we contact Captain Picard and verify this?" the station security officer said. Yves wanted to sink through the floor. He shrugged off zeRia's hand and listened miserably as the consequences of his irritated reaction played themselves out.

Contacting Captain Picard and being informed that deLio was correct satisfied station security and the lieutenant, but resulted in orders that put an end to hopes of sampling zeRia's cooking. Mournfully following the L'norim out of the transporter room, Yves was escorted to his quarters, where explanations followed. The L'norim apologized to Papa, who accepted with grace, but the way Papa eyed him as he slipped around him in the door to their quarters told Yves there was plenty left to discuss. 

"So why was security contacting me in the middle of dessert, Yves?" Papa asked quietly. Yves always predicted punishment by Papa's volume -- quiet meant big, big trouble. He put the springball racquet on a chair and tucked his hands behind his back.

"It was a mistake. I didn't mean for it to happen. We were only joking around, and that lieutenant thought. . . . I don't know what he thought. That deLio and the others were keeping me against my will, I guess."

Papa paced the room with crossed arms. "You were joking about your parentage, deVin said."

"The only reason that lieutenant said anything to security was deVin saying they bought me from the Orions!"

"The L'norim don't understand human jokes all the time, but they can mimic. deVin didn't know the officers wouldn't see it as a joke -- he didn't understand that facial expression and tone of voice are what give away a joke. They wouldn't have started such an exchange -- they must have been reacting to you, yes?"

Yves squirmed, trying not to. Lying to Papa wasn't smart. Nor was dodging the question. He shrugged, bowed his head, and fidgeted.

"Yes, Papa."

"You see how important it is to mind what you say?"

"Yes, Papa."

A sigh, and Papa bumped his hand on Yves' chin. He found himself looking in Papa's eyes as he stood in front of Yves. "I know that sullen tone of voice. I'm not angry. It was a misunderstanding, a mistake, and it wasn't fatal. Take your homework and go visit Guinan while I'm gone. I have a meeting this afternoon on the starbase. Your mother will be home later today -- she called from her shuttle this morning."

"Can't I just stay here and do my homework? Do I really need a babysitter? I won't do anything, honest."

Papa put his hands on Yves' shoulders and looked him in the eye. "All right," he said at last. "But I'm going to ask Guinan to check in on you. No wandering around the ship -- if you go anywhere, it'll be to Guinan, nowhere else. We have repair crews on numerous decks and I don't want you wandering through where they're working. If you get hungry you can get something from the replicator, but remember I'll be able to find out what you ordered -- no sweets, get something more substantial. And I'd better see some homework finished. Your siblings are still with Guinan. You know who to call if you need anything?

"Yes, Papa."

Papa hugged him, patting his back. "And if there's an emergency contact me directly. You know what's an emergency?"

"If I'm hurt or someone beams in with a drawn phaser."

"A drawn phaser -- this is what I get for raising my children on a starship." Papa turned for the door. "I'll be back in a few hours. I'm trusting you in spite of the fact that your mother's probably going to have my head for leaving you alone."

"I'll be good, Papa. Honest." 

Papa strode out, straightening his uniform. Yves waited for the doors to close and spun around in the chair, arms in the air. He laughed and kept the chair going with kicks of his feet against the floor. He'd never, ever been left totally alone like this, with not even the promise of a parent showing up any minute.

He experimented with different arm positions and tried to keep the spin constant. As he finally slowed, he realized how woozy he'd become; it felt like his brain still spun around in his head, like Amy's goldfish when she wiggled the bowl. He fell on the floor and waited for the sensation to stop.

No one there but him. He could do anything. A few hours -- what could he do that he could clean up quickly? Wandering through the rooms that made up the Picard quarters, he studied his options. Papa's books weren't tempting; Papa already let him read them if he was careful not to tear them. The Klingon dagger on the top shelf in the bookcase -- now, that was different. A dk'tahg. Papa had told him what it was for and who had given it to him. It would be perfect for his weapons kata, if only Maman would let him use it. He'd been learning mok'bara in Maman's classes and working with a wooden knife for practice.

Dragging a chair across his parents' bedroom, he stood on it carefully, trying not to let it swivel under his feet. His hand closed on the knife handle. It was heavier than it appeared to be, and as he lifted it from the stand he let go the shelf he'd been bracing himself against to touch the cold metal blade. The edges were sharp. He imagined moving through the form with the weapon poised, how the light would play on the metal and how swift he would swoop on his imaginary opponent with it.

Khest would be impressed by this. So would Tran. Yves turned the weapon over and smiled, imagining his friends' comments if he showed them a knife kata with this. He could do it with a real knife. If he could just convince Maman, he might yet qualify for the tournament next month.

Jumping down, he returned to the living area and began his kata, working through the familiar movements. The knife felt foreign and heavy in his fingers, the grip thicker than he was accustomed to, and he couldn't keep it straight.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the kata. Balance. Strength. Grace. Flow. He found the knife's balance at last. The movements became smooth, his feet moved in measured arcs and lines, his arms performed blocks, parries, and jabs, keeping the point of the knife oriented on the imaginary foe.

It went well until almost the end. He threw the crescent kick, stabbed forward while sounding off, the shout rising from the diaphragm as he put his weight into the thrust of the blade, and followed through -- another kick, another thrust -- 

The collision jarred his arm and the bones in his shoulder and back. He fell on the floor, howling in pain and dropping the knife. When he could blink his vision clear again, he drew his sleeve across his watering eyes and looked at the knife. He'd run into the wall tip first. Two millimeters of the end of the knife had snapped off. He hadn't measured the room to be certain he would have the floor space for the long, straight final sequence.

His first panicked thought was of how to fix it. Papa would say he knew better, and he did. He'd known taking it down wouldn't meet his parents' approval. Maman didn't want him to practice with live weapons yet. Papa had trusted him at home alone for the first time ever, and he'd broken the gift from Worf.

He picked up the broken piece. It fit back in place but even if he glued it there would be a noticeable line. How could he possibly fix this in a few hours? Or a hundred years? He needed help. Guinan would say he should tell Papa, and so would Nat, and he doubted either of them would know what to do to fix the knife, either. 

The annunciator made him jump and drop the knife. He scrambled to hide it, shoving it in the large plant not far from the mark on the wall where he'd broken it. The mark that must have been barely a millimeter long but looked to his eyes like a hole the size of a deck plate. The tone went off again as he dragged the potted pandsalela in front of the spot. Racing across the room, he leaped at the couch, grabbed a padd sitting on the end table, and yelled, "Come!"

Guinan glided into the room. She was wearing purple, today. "Hello. How's the homework coming along?"

"Oh, fine," he said, tossing aside the padd. "I finished my math. Just history left to do. Want something to drink?"

"No, thanks," Guinan said, smiling at the offer. "Want to come down and help me in Ten Forward?"

"Maybe when I'm done with history."

Guinan's eyes traveled the room casually, though it seemed to Yves that she was looking for something out of place. She frowned, sending his heart into palpitations. "That pandsalela. . . wasn't it in a different spot last week?"

"Oh. . . Maman moved it from the corner. She moves and turns it so it grows evenly on all sides. Otherwise it gets all short on the wall side and too tall on the other. Uncle Baymei sent her the cutting, it's his own hybrid. He won an award for it on Betazed."

Guinan studied him, her frown creating more furrows on her brow. "Yves, is there something wrong?"

"No."

She watched him, her dark eyes questioning, almost scolding, and he almost broke. She knew. She had to -- like Maman, she always, always knew when someone lied. Always. 

But unlike Maman, she sometimes didn't confront. Nodding, she turned for the door. "Don't forget, when you're done with the homework. Unless your father has other plans, I'd appreciate the help."

"Okay. Sure. See you later."

She left with a last curious glance at him. As soon as the door closed, he dove across the room, got the knife and the piece, and tried desperately to think of who on board would be able to fix it.

He wrapped it in one of his shirts and went in search of deLio. The security chief knew weapons. Maybe he'd know who could fix them. He found the L'norim in his quarters.

"How did this happen?" he asked, studying the knife Yves held in the open shirt. "And why are you hiding it?"

"I broke it."

deLio's pale green eyes focused on his face. "Are you asking me to help you conceal that from your parents?"

"No. I need to fix it because I broke it. I just don't think everyone else on the ship needs to know about it. It was a gift from Ambassador Worf -- I have to get it fixed."

deLio contemplated the weapon. Yves hadn't realized that L'norim looked so odd out of uniform. deLio had come to the door shirtless, and his chest seemed to be covered with fine gray-green scales. 

"I will help you," he said. "But you do intend to tell your father?"

"I have to. He isn't on board but he'll be back soon. I want this fixed before then."

"Let me put on a shirt."


	2. Chapter 2

Jean-Luc hurried back to the restaurant and found Corey knocking back a drink. "Sorry about that. Yves is prone to mischief sometimes."

"Never figured you for a dad," Corey said with a chuckle.

"We're even then -- I never figured you for an inspector."

Corey leaned back in his chair too far, appearing to lose it for a second but recovering before toppling into the lap of a woman sitting behind him in the closeness of the cafe. 

"Maybe you should leave the alcohol alone," Jean-Luc suggested. "That smells like authentic bourbon, anyway."

"Why do you think I suggested this place? You've turned into a mother hen. I remember when you would have joined me." Corey sniffed, waving a finger vaguely. "I remember when we used to tear up the town, whatever town we were in, and you'd always come out on top in a fight -- except that one time on Earhart. You really had us worried about you then. Never forget the way you laughed when you saw that Nausicaan knife sticking out of your chest, though. Like it was the best thing that ever happened to you."

"Yes, well, I'm a bit older now, and a lot wiser." He didn't recall laughing. In Q's little exercise, yes, but not in the actual incident -- had that all been real, after all? Rather than indulge in ire at Q, he held out the picture he'd picked up after confronting his son. "There they are."

Corey stared at the Picard family, and Jean-Luc studied his face. He hadn't aged so well. Deep creases radiated from the corners of his eyes and mouth. His brown eyes, which Jean-Luc remembered as alive and laughing, seemed tired. His receded hair left a white peninsula down the middle of his scalp. He tapped the picture and smirked.

"How old is she?"

"Amy will be eight this year." Cordelia was obviously much younger.

"Aw, hell, Johnny. Not the kid. Your wife." Those tired eyes grew distant. "She's really something."

"I'll tell her you said so. Sure you don't want to stick around and have dinner with us? She'd like to meet you."

"Really."

"Of course. You could tell the kids lies about me when I was younger."

Corey laughed and slapped his shoulder. "I'll bet the boy's already been accepted to the Academy."

"No, but he'd probably do better at twelve than I did at sixteen."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short. You were a shoe-in for captaincy -- anyone with that much determination to excel in spite of the odds got their attention. Once you stayed away from that redhead you were fine."

A lieutenant approached, sidling between tables; people scooted out of his way with irritated glances. "Captain Zweller, Command's on the comm." The young man snapped to attention as best he could in the small space between a couple of empty chairs and held out a comm badge. Corey took it from him and fastened it where it belonged on the front of his jacket.

"It's probably Elkhart again. He's been after me to take over one of those admin jobs back at Command. I'd better go -- it's been great seeing you again, Johnny. Take care of 'em -- beautiful kids. Good thing they take after her."

"Last chance, Corey. Sure you don't want a free meal?"

"After Elkhart the lieutenant and I will have to get back to the _Mongolia_ and wander on to the next starbase. Inspections are hell but someone's got to do it." Corey tossed the picture to him. "See you on down the road, Johnny."

Jean-Luc watched him leave with the lieutenant, who must have been all of twenty-seven -- he looked younger but had to have some years as an ensign under his belt. 

"Michelle," Jean-Luc muttered, finally remembering the redhead's name. He sniffed. That girl had distracted him utterly from his classes -- it mildly disturbed him that he couldn't recall her face with any clarity. She'd dropped him like a hot coal for someone else and proved to him that she'd meant what she said, no strings attached. He hadn't been able to tell that he'd had strings where she hadn't. 

Picking up the picture, he studied the familiar faces of his family, the one he'd sworn he would never have, and slumped a little in the chair. His attachments, his strings, the smiling faces of those he had tied himself to at a wedding more a decade ago.

He lost track of time, sitting in the middle of a cafe with a couple of empty glasses in front of him, turning the photo around in his fingers. What had he been thinking so long ago that Michelle's departure had hurt him? It hadn't exactly been heartbreak. She'd been the shallow type, he'd known it then as well -- more looks than brains, the sister of a fellow cadet. The pain had probably been bruised ego and the way his friends teased him for being hurt by something he should've expected all along. How long ago it all was, how distant the pain of a boy he could hardly remember being. How determined he'd been not to let it happen again. 

"Buy me a drink?"

He looked up, noting absently that the place was emptier than it had been. He had been so caught up in other things she'd returned without his noticing that the lack of her, the sensation of something missing, had ceased. Smiling, he sat up as Deanna slid into the chair Corey had vacated. He immediately covered her hand with his where it lay on the table. 

"You're back early."

"That's what warp travel is good for."

"I'm glad you're back."

She blinked in momentary bemusement. "I can tell. You don't usually hold hands with me in the middle of starbases, or look at me in that way. Who was it?"

"Who was who?"

"Jean-Luc, after all these years you know better than to try. You're reminiscing, someone led you to it."

"A chance meeting. Cortan Zweller, an old classmate and good friend. He's out wandering the starbases. A captain, but of the administrative sort. He was on a starbase during the war and now he's making the rounds inspecting them."

"An older man in uniform, with just a bit of hair left on top? He was walking toward the transporters as I left them, with a lieutenant carrying baggage. He stared at me with something other than passing interest -- it got my attention."

"Because I was showing off." Jean-Luc passed her the picture. "I asked him to dinner. He didn't want to come. I got the feeling he was uncomfortable with the idea of my having a family -- when I went to get Yves he started drinking bourbon."

"Where did you leave Yves? He's very upset. He wasn't with Guinan when I stopped in to check in with her." She could have gone and found him, but she'd clearly wanted to get information first. That meant he was on the ship and safe, at least.

"Did you go to our quarters?"

For an answer she glanced down at her pantsuit, a soft blue with metallic gold threading throughout. She'd changed out of uniform. "He wasn't there. Why are you getting angry?"

"First I get a call from station security, now this. The first time I leave him alone and he disappears." Then he remembered the other place he'd specified. Maybe Yves had gone there after Deanna had. "Picard to Guinan."

"Guinan here." 

"Is Yves with you?"

"No. Should he be?"

"No, thanks. But if you see him send him home. Picard out." 

Deanna went with him silently. They returned to their quarters, thinking the boy might have returned to the scene of the crime and try to act like nothing had happened, and found him sitting at the table. Relief swept over Jean-Luc but didn't assuage the anger.

"Where did you go? I told you not to go anywhere. And what is this?" Jean-Luc hurried forward and snatched up the knife on the table.

Yves flinched down into the chair, almost sliding beneath the table. He had a padd and held it over the lower half of his face. "I took it down," he mumbled. "Maman won't let me use a real knife in my kata but I'll never be able to do weapons in a tournament until I can use one. I miscalculated while I was practicing and ran into the wall. It broke the tip and I took it to deLio because I knew he would know someone who could fix it. I'm sorry."

Deanna stood behind his chair, undetected so far, and met Jean-Luc's eyes. Their son was obviously overwhelmed with guilt and not sensing his mother. Her startled dismay faded. Jean-Luc knew from her expression that Yves had told the truth.

"You knew we wouldn't want you to touch a weapon!"

"But it's just a knife. I'm not a little kid. I didn't hurt myself, just the knife, and I wouldn't have done that if I hadn't been concentrating so hard! I said I was sorry!"

Jean-Luc sighed, dropping into a chair and leaning on the table. "Yves, you took something without the owner's permission. You could have easily injured yourself. I only left it out on the top shelf because I trusted you and Amy to leave it there. We talked about that, remember? About staying out of our bedroom when we're not home, and leaving my things alone?"

Yves' defiance flickered and died in his eyes as he dropped his gaze to the table. "I'm sorry," he whispered. Deanna nodded, pursing her lips. This was real penitence.

"You said you would do homework. Does this mean I can't trust you?"

Startled, Yves blinked quickly, trying to look him in the eye. "Papa," he gasped.

"Does it?"

"No," he replied in a small voice.

"But playing with a knife isn't part of your homework. Is it?"

"No."

"Would you have told me you did it even if it hadn't been broken? If all you'd done was take it down and play with it, and put it back?"

"Yes."

Jean-Luc leaned forward. Hands flat on the table, he tried to set aside the amazement at this. "Why?"

"All I wanted to do was prove I could practice with it without hurting myself, so Maman would let me get ready for the tournament. I want to be in the one next month but if I can't use a real weapon I can't be in the weapons division."

Deanna put a hand to her forehead and shook her head in disbelief. Jean-Luc sat down. "But you knew she would disapprove of your attempt."

"I asked if I could try it but she wouldn't let me. How do I know if I can do something unless I try?" The question echoed what they had been telling Yves since he was five whenever he started complaining that he couldn't do something they'd told him to. 

Jean-Luc looked at Deanna; a moment later, Yves followed his gaze, turning in his chair, and stiffened visibly. They remained still with their child between them, and as sometimes happened, the strands of the family bond became more apparent to Jean-Luc than usual. Yves hovered, anxious and trying not to betray it. Deanna came up behind his chair and laid a hand on his black curls to reassure. It didn't help much.

{It sounds like something you would do when you were a child.}

Jean-Luc sniffed, drawing Yves' attention. He sighed again and responded at last to his son's implied plea for leniency. "Be that as it may, you took my knife without permission, you went into our room to do it, and you knew we wouldn't approve. You can ask your mother again if you can try your kata with a real weapon, and you can ask me to borrow this one -- in two months. Not before. You have also lost holodeck time."

Yves' mouth fell open and snapped shut again immediately. His throat moved as he swallowed, his eyes watered, but no tears fell. Nodding, he ducked his head and mumbled, "Yes, Papa."

At least with his head down that way, Yves wouldn't see the way his attempt to remain stoic affected his father. The regret was mirrored in Deanna's eyes, however. Ever the empath.

"Did you finish any of the homework?"

"No."

"Go to your room and do it, then."

Yves slid off the chair and went without looking at either of his parents. After the door to his room slid shut, Deanna came to put her arms around Jean-Luc and rest her nose against his ear.

"It was necessary to do something. You couldn't let it pass unpunished."

"I know, Deebird. It doesn't make it any easier."

"Why are you afraid?"

"He's twelve. He's already feeling trapped -- he wants to grow up so badly it's tearing him up inside." Jean-Luc closed his eyes and inhaled the sweet, slight smell of his wife's perfume. "I remember feeling trapped and desperately wanting to escape -- I remember being punished for fighting for my freedom." 

When he didn't continue, she did. "You're afraid of pushing him away from you. But he loves you, Jean. He wants so much to make you proud of him."

"But he's twelve, and in a few years, he'll be a different boy. And again a few years after that -- and then he'll be off and running, pursuing whatever path he chooses, and shortly after that so will Amy. . . ."

She understood, but said nothing. The heart fire murmured between them as always. Reassurance, acceptance of each other and the passage of time, of the inevitability of watching children they wanted to keep forever become adults they would also want to keep forever.

It rarely happened that she was the first to pull away from such an embrace. He understood why a moment later, as the doors hissed open and Amy and the twins raced in, followed by Guinan and her apologetic expression. Time for her to be in Ten Forward, and from the excited high-pitched voices of the children, Jean-Luc knew why she wouldn't want to take them with her. 

"HI," Jean-Pierre cried, launching himself at his papa. "Can I have a cookie?"

"Why don't we all have a snack?" Deanna said diplomatically, turning for the replicator.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can thank the rain we're getting here for the quicker-than-expected updates, as my usual activities for the weekends have been postponed.

Yves tried to focus on his latest history lesson. The teacher had him reading about Earth history, and next semester it would be Betazed. 

Finishing the questions assigned for review, Yves checked the syllabus. Another week left in the Renaissance. He'd have to choose a topic for a term paper and get it done in six days. The teacher had assigned the paper a month ago, when they'd finished the Dark Ages and started on the Renaissance. Boring stuff. The list of suggested topics didn't have anything interesting on it.

He knew if he asked Papa, he could write the entire paper on the answer he would get, probably without bothering to consult the computer for other sources. But Maman had told him several times to do his homework without Papa's help if he could since that was the point of school, researching and learning the material himself. The ability to research effectively and thoroughly was as important as the material, Papa always said.

Art, music, inventions, social practices, politics. . . there were too many possibilities. Should he do it on a specific person? Religion? Which one? Catholicism? Buddhism? Wars and how they were fought? Natural disasters occurring in that time period? A comparative study of family life in various European countries? Methods of travel? What it was like to grow up in a specific country? Maybe France. Papa was from France and their house on Earth was there. Maybe wine-making in the Renaissance? Or maybe he could track down his own ancestors from that time period. The Picard family history was well-documented, Papa had said once.

Yves asked the computer for information and ran up against one of those occasional limitations of the _Enterprise_ 's amazing computer database. One could find information on any subject, but it didn't have detailed family histories spanning centuries. It wasn't likely that the name of someone's twenty-times-great grandfather who had done nothing of historical importance would be of any use on a mission in space, so it wasn't there. It could be retrieved from the archives at Memory Alpha, however, though he'd need an adult's access code to do that.

Out of curiosity, he asked for a summary of Betazed's history from that same time period, and heard a very different account. He called a halt to the flow of the computer's pleasant, emotionless recital when his bedroom door opened.

Papa came into his room and sat on the edge of his bed. It always made his bedroom feel so much smaller to have Papa there. "We're having guests for dinner, and it's almost dinner time. Why haven't you come out?"

"You told me to do homework."

Papa ran his hand over his head as if frustrated. "So I did. All done?"

"I need a topic for my Renaissance term paper. I thought of all kinds of things, and decided to try writing about our ancestors in France, but there's not much in the computer and I would need an access code to submit a request to Memory Alpha."

Papa grinned. "That's very ambitious. If you needed help why didn't you ask sooner? You've had this assignment for the past month."

It caught him off guard. He hadn't mentioned the paper to either of his parents. "Um. . . Maman said I was supposed to do my own homework and not bother you with it."

"But if you needed access to more information you could have requested it. Would you like me to show you how to fill out a request for archived material from Memory Alpha?"

"Yes, Papa."

Papa's smile dwindled as he studied Yves with an intense look that made him nervous. "You can always ask for my help, Yves. On anything. Are you still upset about being punished?"

"No. I deserved it, I guess. I did know I shouldn't do it."

"I know," Papa said softly. "I really don't like punishing any of you, you know. I do try to be fair."

"I know." Yves looked up again, to find Papa watching him with a tentative smile. "Maman is from Betazed."

It almost made Papa laugh. "You know that. You've been there quite a bit." 

"How come she doesn't have any other husbands?"

Papa blinked and leaned away from him, then started to laugh. "Well, for one thing, that's a very old practice not much used any more. For another, she wouldn't have married someone like me if she wanted more than one husband."

"Grandmother had more than one husband. I've heard her mention her second husband."

"Yves," Papa began, rubbing his brow. "That's true, she did marry more than once, but she didn't marry them at the same time. Where did you get this idea from?"

"I was curious about what was happening on Betazed during the Renaissance on Earth. I asked the computer. What's an evha nei ahnia?"

"Why don't you save questions about Betazed for your mother? I'll help you with Earth history in the meantime."

"Why are you blushing, Papa?"

"I'm not blushing, this collar is too tight and it's warm in here. I'm going to change out of this uniform, I'm done with duty for the day. Think of what you want to get from the archive."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a good day to write.

"It's been a long trip in a runabout with two kids," Janeway said, strolling along the corridor from the transporter room. She had an emerald green sweater on, with what appeared to be the black pants from her uniform. "I almost wish I'd just diverted the _Newton_ so I could have more help with them. The ensign I brought used almost all the analgesic in the medkit -- poor Nina gets motion sickness in shuttles. She was shrieking like a siren."

"I seem to recall you saying something about not wanting more than one child," Picard exclaimed, eyeing Nina and leaning away from her when she tried to put fingers in his nose. The chubby three-year-old giggled. She was heavier than his own children had been, at that age.

"You probably recall me saying as well that I didn't want to have them at all until we returned to the Alpha Quadrant, a long time ago. You can see how that went." Her first child had been born in the Delta Quadrant. No doubt it had seemed logical at the time.

"I suppose you blame Chakotay?"

"Well, I'm certainly not taking the blame if he's going to." She looked down at her older daughter, Rosalind, who at seven looked like she would be a feminine copy of her father. Though there was a resemblance between mother and daughter when Ros smiled. The girl had long black hair, straight and thick, and usually wore it tied back in a ponytail. She walked between them quietly, being patient with the silly adults teasing each other. 

"What's the current mission? Something you can get away from, obviously."

"There's this great big nebula, out in sector 495. It's going to take a few months to chart."

"And so you decided to come along and visit while we're in for refits? I thought you wanted science-focused missions, instead of first contact or diplomatic missions."

Kathryn's eyes laughed, and she smirked at him. "I want to do it all. It seemed like an opportunity to manage both work and play -- I'll be back before it's done, and I also get to use some of the incredible amount of leave I accumulated. And the kids can continue to get to know your kids."

"And you haven't been to see your good friends in a long time?"

"Well, yes. I've missed Deanna."

"Oh, well, maybe someday I'll be your friend," he said with a sigh, bouncing Nina up to shift her weight on his hip.

"I also missed basking in the warmth of your sarcasm, Jean-Luc."

They reached a lift, and he asked for deck two, surprising Kathryn. "Not letting us in your quarters these days?"

"We're moving. We do that, every so often. It gives us a chance to get new carpeting and get rid of old toys. There are crew moving our belongings as we speak. We're giving the twins their own rooms. The Picard quarters will now be on deck six, section one, cabin two. We'll have different neighbors as well. Your guest quarters will be deck six, section two."

The captain's private dining room looked like the rest of his life, Picard reflected. Completely disrupted by the children, and a lovely woman who smiled at him even as she pulled Pierre away from the replicator. Cordelia squealed at the sight of more playmates and raced over to hug Ros. Deanna came to Kathryn to greet her warmly.

Dinner was the usual game of trying to eat while holding a conversation with the older children and keeping the younger ones from wearing more than they ate. With a toddler at the table for the first time since their visit with the Rikers six months before, it took more patience with interruptions and more time than usual. 

"I took the liberty of asking the Wildmans to take the kids for the evening," Deanna said, as Kathryn and Jean-Luc cleared the table while she took Nina out of the high chair. "Naomi can't wait to see Nina again."

"I don't suppose you have some of that wonderful Chardonnay around?" Kathryn asked. She braided Rosalind's hair for her. "Where is Fidele?"

"Our dog is in for a refit as well. We sent him along to see Data, for a month or so." Picard put the glasses in to be recycled and turned in time to catch a forlorn look on Yves' face. "He'll be back soon. I know Yves has missed him terribly."

"Yes, we have the Chardonnay," Deanna added. She picked up Nina from where the child was toddling around near the viewports. "Come on, kids, let's go to the Wildman's quarters."

Kathryn went with them to say hello to her former captain's assistant and her mother, leaving Picard at loose ends. He wandered down to deck six and found several men still carrying in furnishings and boxes. The kids' rooms looked done -- Cordelia's was the shade of mauve she'd selected, and Jean-Pierre's a subdued shade of green that Maman had chosen. Yves had asked for blue, in several shades, and Amy had demanded purple. Grandmother would approve heartily -- the walls looked like the Fifth House had bled all over them. All the furnishings and toys and books were in place already, in all four rooms. 

The master bedroom had been put together -- a new bed, larger than the last, in the middle of the room and centered along the outer wall, beneath the sloping viewports. Two bookcases along the wall on either side of the door, and a table and chairs in the corner. The closet now resided in the other corner, also against the outer wall -- so if that bulkhead collapsed, two officers would be reduced to replicating uniforms. Their clothes had been moved in already. He made a mental note to fetch the contents of his safe in the morning. The new one had been placed in the base of the bed, behind a sliding panel to conceal it.

He glanced into the bathroom and smiled a little -- Deanna would appreciate the deeper tub, and the slightly larger shower stall. So would he. Indulging his inner hedonist was easier when he had a wife to help him. Her things were already in the drawer next to the sink. 

Picard left the young men placing knick knacks on shelves in the living room, referencing padds with pictures of their old quarters, and headed for the cargo bay where his wine was stored. As he returned from deck twenty-three, the lift halted on deck ten, and Mengis stepped in.

"Having a glass of wine?" the doctor asked, eyeing the bottle in Picard's hand.

"Captain Janeway is here."

"I see. I suppose that means rounds of velocity. Please remind your son to stretch before indulging." The last visit had featured a sickbay visit for Yves, with a torn muscle.

"I'll remind him. I'll also be in for my physical tomorrow."

Mengis sniffed, the end of his long mustache twitching. "Thank you for not making me harass you."

"Scheduling them between missions does help, you know."

He left the doctor in the lift on deck six and walked to the quarters they had given Janeway, which were not currently being renovated. He found that Kathryn and Deanna had managed to arrive at her door simultaneously, from the other direction.

"Party at Kathryn's," Kathryn announced, waving them in with a sweep of her arms. "I'll replicate the glasses."

"I'd say being out of uniform stimulates grandiosity, if I didn't know Kathryn," Deanna said, following her in. 

"Yves is being too quiet," Kathryn said as they settled on the couch while she brought three wine glasses and a corkscrew from the replicator. She let Picard work on the cork while she reclined on her end of the couch, moving a cushion behind her for a back support.

"He got himself into some trouble earlier today. Broke his father's dk'tahg after taking it without asking." Deanna picked up an empty glass from the low table, holding it out to receive wine. He poured less than half a glass, knowing she wouldn't want any more than that.

"Oh, dear. I suppose he doesn't get to use it in the tournament now." When confronted by their bemused expressions she sighed. "He's only been talking about it in his last few messages -- wanting to use a real weapon so he can compete."

"Sounds like he's talking to everyone but us, lately," Picard said wearily. "He was attempting to write a paper that he couldn't find enough sources for, and yet not asking for help."

Deanna frowned. Something about the way she didn't look at them, kept her eyes lidded and her head bowed, struck him as more than mere motherly concern.

"I don't suppose I could persuade you to take the blame for our son's sudden streak of independence," he said casually.

Kathryn was taken aback, but said nothing at all. Deanna wouldn't look at him, didn't move, and her shoulders seemed to be drawing in, just a bit.

"Dee," he murmured, reaching. But she didn't move. It forced him to lean, reach farther, and grab her hand.

Kathryn slid along the couch until she could reach Deanna's shoulder. "Deanna -- "

"I think it was my fault," she said quietly.

"Because he misunderstood what you said, it's your fault."

Her head came up, and now she stared at him with one of those looks that told him he was being dense.

"Okay -- why is it your fault?"

Now Deanna smiled at him, nodding, almost to herself. "You made it to a question in one assumption. Nice." 

"Dee."

"I should have explained more carefully to him that he shouldn't use you as an database, but that he could ask for help accessing actual databases. Instead of telling him not to keep coming to you for help with his homework."

He chuckled, settling back on the couch, and sipped his wine. "So it is your fault."

They talked late into the evening, moving on from her self castigation to reminisce and talk about Kathryn's latest missions, mostly surveys and cataloging of stellar phenomena. She had a Luna class vessel, so that made plenty of sense. It was exactly what she'd asked for, when _Voyager_ made her triumphant return from the long adventure in the Delta Quadrant, and ended the conflict with the Xens'mik without so much as a phaser fired. She probably could have gotten the _Venture_ if she'd wanted it, as Glendenning had retired shortly after the end of the confrontation to quietly tend his rose gardens (and there was a contrast if ever there was one -- from starship captain to gardener). But she'd held out for a science vessel, and she'd gotten the best one available.

"So what's on for tomorrow?" Kathryn asked, bringing her hands together palm to palm. She was sitting sideways on the end of the couch, one leg folded under her, looking nothing at all like a captain.

"I imagine, though it can certainly change at any time, that I will be orienting the latest crop of eager cadets to their new quarters on their first tour of duty aboard a starship. And the captain and I will go together to engineering, to greet our new engineer. Who will tell us all about our new engines." Deanna nudged him with her elbow. "Aren't you excited? I was thinking of asking for some new paint -- perhaps some sleek striping on the hull, to go with the faster engines?"

"No, no, all wrong," Kathryn exclaimed, leaning back and waving dismissively. "It's Jean-Luc Picard we're talking about -- we need to be regulation compliant and entirely dignified about this."

"Mmm. No, not quite. Not any more." Jean-Luc smirked at her. "If we're going to be completely in line with my life as it is right now, we'll have a purple vessel, with Mr. Pogs or possibly Mr. Tiggles mounted on the nose of the ship like a figurehead, and Amy's paper craft art all around. Hats, origami cranes, and paper flowers everywhere."

They giggled at him, fondly, and Deanna rested her forehead on his shoulder, looking at him. "You've forgotten something."

"Not at all. But I'm not about to let you start leaving your underwear lying around on the hull."

He allowed himself a chuckle, as they laughed harder at his joke, just as he hoped. Janeway said good night and saw them to the door, smiling and promising she would pick up all the kids, hers and theirs, after school tomorrow. 

"Cordelia's drawings of the _Enterprise_ aren't purple any more, just so you know," Deanna said, strolling around deck six the long way to their new quarters. 

"How many new cadets are we talking about?"

"Twenty four, from the Academy. Ten from Command School."

"So I suppose I should start with the ten, with the individual meetings. Since they're command track they'll have some experience to talk about, and it'll give me something to break up the monotony of reading updates on our new equipment, while we're finishing the refit."

He let her go in first, let her stop in the middle of the living room and turn around slowly. The satisfied smile told him he'd chosen well. "I like it, Jean."

The regulation silver-gray was still present, in the walls and carpet. But he'd chosen to use colors, in a large round throw rug in the center of the room, in a muted shade of command red. Their new couch was now opposite the door, and instead of the lighter gray of the carpet he'd chosen a darker shade, but three of the six pillows were the same bright red of their uniform shirts, this year. Neatly centered over the couch was their digital frame, featuring an even larger collection of images from their family activities -- an image of the kids involved in a snowball fight on the holodeck just last month had just faded in to replace one of Deanna standing at attention on the bridge, slightly off center of the captain's chair, no one else in the picture. He'd just gotten it three days before, taking advantage of the absence of bridge crew to make her the only officer in the picture. 

The toy box was gone, now in the end of the short internal hall that took them to the doors of the children's rooms. The larger oval table and chairs took up the far corner at the end of the couch. The bookshelf between the table and the hall door held so many of their souvenirs, the blend of what each of them had accumulated prior to marriage, and the bottom two shelves contained books. In hopes of reclaiming it from the kids, he'd had his desk moved into a small office that stood between the master bedroom and the living room, a buffer zone, where the generator now resided. The shelving in there would be the home of things he'd collected since they'd started a family, including a number of things the children had made for him in class over the years.

"I'll go get the children while you explore. I hope the rest of the changes also meet your approval."

Deanna looked at him, turning from her contemplation of the room, and gave him an intense look that stopped his turn toward the door. Her lips parted as if she were about to speak. Her expression startled him -- in a peculiar moment of dislocation he felt suddenly displaced, out of sync, and a moment's thought brought him to a memory of Eline. An expression similar to Deanna's had once occurred, in a meaningful moment, within the context of his dream of Kataan. 

The disorientation ended when Deanna came toward him and her expression turned questioning. "That hasn't happened in a long time."

"Your expression reminded me of the day I told Eline I would build her a nursery."

Deanna smiled, in that way that lit up her face like a sunrise. "I see."

He indulged in a moment with her, remembering how it felt to give his wife what she'd wanted for so long, and it led to thoughts of their children -- the problem with that came clear in the intermix of his memories and hers, remembering her body late in pregnancy and how satisfying that had been for him, experiencing that with her and feeling such joy. Only as they thought about the twins it became bittersweet when it came to seeing them placed in the artificial womb, and Deanna's ever-present sadness that it had been necessary, even while they watched the growth of their youngest two from a unique perspective. 

"I'll be back," he murmured, pulling away as they allowed the intense intertwined memories fall back into the past where they belonged.

"Always a given." Deanna smiled and headed for the door on the right -- into the office, and beyond.

The Wildmans were on deck seven, and he had an easier time than usual luring the kids from their play with Naomi -- Kathryn had already picked up her girls, and there were new rooms waiting for them to enjoy. When they arrived in the new living area, only Yves paused to look at the changes; the younger children were too excited to register that their shared living space was radically different.

"Yves?"

After the journey through memory with Deanna, Jean-Luc felt an unusual amount of pride and affection for their oldest, as he turned to look up at his father -- his hazel eyes held questions, and Jean-Luc thought that already the boy seemed to show an understanding beyond his years. Yves soberly contemplated something, probably how to respond to what he sensed from him. Deanna had been devoting more time to working with the boy, to help him develop as much as he could. She wouldn't make the mistake her own mother had, of assuming his mixed parentage meant he would mean inferior telepathic ability. Jean-Luc recalled the conversation -- argument, really, as Dee had been almost shouting at her mother to get her point across -- when Lwaxana had been dismissive of such attempts. This was the son of Jean-Luc Picard, Dee had insisted. There was absolutely nothing ordinary about him.

Old anger, at Lwaxana for her continued habit of not seeing how extraordinary her daughter really was, came up and was quickly put back down. Jean-Luc smiled at Yves, almost apologetically, and went first into his son's new bedroom to show him.

"We put Fidele's bed in the living room," he said, as Yves walked around his room, smiling approval. He came to a stop in front of the desk at the other end of the room against the wall, appearing to be studying the items on the shelves above it. Old school projects and his ship-in-a-bottle, and a few pictures in frames of friends not currently living on the ship with them.

"Papa?"

Oh, here came another Big Question, Jean-Luc thought, trying not to feel trepidation. His reaction to such things was probably part of the reason Yves had been so quiet lately, but it was hard to set aside a years-old habit of holding all his feelings and memories close, forcing them aside to be only an officer. So hard that he still stumbled over these moments, especially difficult now that Yves was empathic.

"Yes?"

Yves turned around but looked at the bed instead of at him. "Why are people so afraid of you?"

It struck him dumb, left him staring at the boy without an answer, for too long. Fortunately Deanna came in then. She glanced at each of them, and sat on the foot of Yves' bed. "Your father doesn't know how to answer you."

"Why?"

"Think about when you were on the inhibitor, Yves. How it is to not know what others feel. Your father isn't like us. He doesn't know what to say because he doesn't know how other officers feel about him. Not directly."

Yves stared at his mother, his mouth working a little as if the next question wasn't easy to ask. "But why would they be afraid of him?"

Deanna smiled reassuringly, glancing at Jean-Luc, nodding. "It's not fear, exactly. It's a little fear, combined with respect. Sometimes awe. Sometimes people think about everything he's done, and what Starfleet allows the media to share, and they get the idea that your father -- all starship captains, actually, at least the ones who do things like win battles against incredible odds -- is somehow superhuman. More intelligent, more powerful, somehow, than they are. For subordinates it's more respect -- when you go to the Academy, in classes the instructors will share missions in illustrating why certain regulations exist, or why it's important to have a good foundation in some subjects. The way you know your father is quite the opposite. You may know a lot about his work, but you also know him as a person. We get to know who people really are by being with them, something that all those people you sense as fearing him don't get to do."

Jean-Luc admired how adroitly she handled the question but also felt frustrated, that he couldn't really articulate that for Yves.

She was looking at him, even while she put an arm around Yves, as their son sat down next to her. "Your father doesn't like being a focus of attention like that. He feels uncomfortable because he focuses on doing his duty, and not on how amazing it is that he's managed to work through difficult situations repeatedly. It would be easy to label it humility, but it's more that he used to be an arrogant young man. He doesn't want to be seen that way, any more. Arrogance is generally looked upon with disfavor, in humans."

Jean-Luc guffawed, frustrated. "I know what you're trying to do, but -- " And he ran up against the awkwardness again, and put a hand to his forehead. 

Yves' face shouted confusion, and Deanna laughed gently, patting their son's shoulder. "This is going to sound dismissive but I assure you I don't mean it that way -- Yves, you need to trust that you will understand eventually. This isn't something that explanations will help you with. I'll keep trying, but you'll get better answers the way we all do, through experience. Get ready for bed, petit. You have school in the morning."

They left him there, and went together to check on the other children -- Cordelia was racing around her room, beside herself at having her own space, rearranging all her toys repeatedly as if unable to decide where they should be. Pierre had already put on pajamas and sat on the end of his bed contentedly playing one of his games. Amy, of course, was working at the kit her grandmother had sent along, a model of the Fifth House out of lightweight materials that could be snapped together. She had rearranged the shelves over her desk to make room for it, now that she had more space.

"I like the office," Deanna commented as they left the kids' rooms behind and passed through the living room and office. She paused to tap on the top of the generator that emitted harmless levels of radiation that would hamper Yves' ability to sense anything -- turning it up slightly, Jean-Luc noticed, triggering a visceral reaction in him.

"Pavlov's Picard," he murmured when she sauntered to him and leaned in, stroking his erection through the front of his pants. 

"I like the bedroom even more than the office," she whispered, licking his earlobe.

"I like the new uniforms," he replied, tugging at the collar of her jacket. The fasteners were less problematic to undo, and the red undershirt now fastened at the hips, so the form-fitting turtleneck now opened one wing at a time and could be slipped backward off the arms to fall on the floor, without needing to be pulled over the head. 

Deanna backed him through the bedroom door, and they fell into a pseudo-waltz, peeling away articles of clothing, kissing, his hands sliding up her ribs, over her breasts, her shoulders, down her back to pull her against his bare chest. She pulled him forward a step, out of his pants that she'd sent to the floor around his ankles, and backed against the bed. She let go of him, letting her arms slide from his shoulders and jumping back to sprawl on the bed while he reached for her boots. He grinned, crawling up the bed over her and resuming the intense tongue-wrestling kisses, her hands gliding over his head before gripping his shoulder blades while her body started to levitate. She slid her left leg along his thigh as he settled along her with his penis nestling in against her where her leg and hip joined. The pressure built between them while his thumb rubbed circles around her right nipple and he pinned her against his left arm with his weight. 

When he finally slid into her, the heart fire flared from a rising simmer to engulf them. He heard her, distantly, crying out in ecstasy while they fell into a comfortable rhythm together -- his body responded without conscious thought to her need for harder, faster, deeper, and he kissed down the valley between her breasts while she rose against him in orgasm. She shuddered and languorously settled back to the bed while he pushed back inside and resumed, slowly.

He joined her after another slow build to orgasm, and she let him sprawl with her, chests heaving together while she kissed him and caressed the back of his head and neck. Sliding his hands under her, he held her tightly and let her bear his weight for a few seconds then rolled them over, and she came to rest on his chest. He trapped her legs by throwing his left foot over her calves.

"Still working on a routine for the synchronized uniform removal event in the next Federation Olympics," she said, grinning, while he pulled out the remaining pins from her hair and tossed them one at a time to the nightstand.

"No doubt in the advanced categories, we'd have to wear the ones that I had to put up with as a cadet. All the buckles and braid."

"MMmm, so more practice." Her words tickled against his throat, while she kissed and nibbled gradually toward his face.

Her response to his thinking they might actually get in the bed was to reach, tug the cover incrementally into a bunch until she could grab the edge, and pull it over them, then slide over to settle next to him, her arm resting along his chest while she traced random patterns with her fingernails against his skin. 

Movement overhead caught his attention -- he watched through the viewport as a ship glided along, blocking out the stars. The serial number and name of the ship, printed on the hull plates on the underside of the saucer section, indicated that _Venture_ had arrived.

"Geordi's here," he exclaimed. Their friend and former engineer had spent a fair amount of time being someone's first officer, and Picard had been proud to hear that Glendenning's departure had resulted in Geordi's first command. Over the past few years, Geordi and his crew had managed to perfect the transwarp engines given to _Venture_ in prototype, and so now _Enterprise_ would be the next to receive that upgrade, followed by the rest of the Sovereign-class vessels.

"I know. We're having lunch with him tomorrow."

He chuckled. Previous first officers hadn't tried to surprise him that way -- he had stopped feeling irritation a long time ago, trusting her to not ambush him with such occasions unless the person she invited were a good friend.

He awoke when she left the bed for the bathroom, and took the opportunity to actually get between the sheets. She slipped in with him moments later and kissed him, surprising him with more than just an affectionate peck on the cheek. 

But he was tired, and so was she, and she settled in with a sigh. He fell asleep again with a contented smile.


	5. Chapter 5

Yves supposed he should be happy to get as far as history class before the day went awry. He sensed Amy starting one of her meltdowns, and it distracted him from the teacher's presentation on the Catholic church and the Papacy. Shutting his eyes tightly, he tried frantically to block out his younger sister, two classrooms away, probably screaming at one of her hapless classmates. Toby Pendergrass was her usual target, because he had even less tact than Pierre. He teased Amy about her clothing choices -- she was wearing purple again, Fifth House colors, because she was so focused on Grandma's long missives talking about the next Festival they would attend and how exciting it would be. Purple wasn't her color at all. The precise shade traditionally used by the Fifth House was wrong for Amy's skin and hair -- softer shades were better, Maman would say. 

"Yves?" 

Great, now Mr. Sheffield was looking at him, concerned, and the other four kids in his class were staring. "Sorry. Just a headache."

"That's the fifth headache this month. I hope the doctor gets to the bottom of those."

Yves accepted the instruction to go to sickbay, and in the corridor briefly contemplated going in to console Amy -- but she had worked herself up to that point where she would be wailing, and he really was getting a headache. He stopped outside her classroom and leaned, forehead to the wall, thinking about her.

Abruptly, the onslaught of rage dwindled -- he backed away as the door on his right opened, and Amy stared at him, sniffling, wiping her face, red-eyed and weepy. 

He stared back. "What?"

"Jerk," she blurted, grinning through her tears. 

"Quit giving me a headache, Amia," he ordered, grinning back. 

"How'd you do that?"

Mrs. Ching came out then, and crossed her arms. "Well?"

"I'm supposed to go to sickbay. I just wanted to make sure she was okay."

"Amy, go back to your seat. I've instructed Toby to leave you alone and moved him across the room."

Amy threw her arms around Yves' neck and then raced back into her classroom, the long cape of the incredibly-grape-y outfit she wore almost tangling in her legs. He gave Mrs. Ching a lopsided smile, shrugged, and walked off toward the turbolift.

Maman's wordless question came while he was riding the lift to sickbay. He remembered the sensation of Amy going crazy, his leaning on the wall and focusing, trying something different than just suffering through -- sometimes, as Maman had demonstrated, focusing on the troublesome emotions of others would help ease the mind, as if he'd just pushed through them -- and Amy's reaction. 

Maman's response confused him -- she retreated, then returned to his awareness with pride and love, and suddenly he felt like she'd wrapped him up in a hug. Then she was gone, back to whatever she was working on, and he found he'd stumbled against the wall in the lift. He straightened, taking a breath, as the lift stopped. When the doors opened a lieutenant strode in -- he returned the smile, ignoring the curiosity of the officer he didn't recognize, and left for sickbay. 

Dr. Mengis had someone on a biobed, but turned as the door opened and smiled. He gestured at the bed behind him, and Yves jogged a few steps and jumped up to sit on it as directed.

"Another headache?"

"Yeah. I guess."

"Ensign, you may return to your quarters. I'll see you tomorrow." Mengis turned as the ensign got off the bed and left sickbay. "Are you still having difficulties concentrating in class?"

"I wish I wasn't."

"I'm giving you analgesic. Let's save inhibitor for really difficult things?"

Yves knew what he meant -- class and Amy's tantruming were nothing, next to red alerts and hundreds of crew having anxiety that pounded on his head like drumsticks. "Okay." 

While the hypospray took away the throb in his head, the door opened and in came Papa. Yves flinched -- though he knew he'd done nothing wrong.

"Something wrong?" Papa asked, his tone not even approaching the full expression of the sudden anxiety he felt. 

"Just a little headache." Mengis gestured for Papa to go to the biobed on his right. "He's going back to class in a minute."

But Papa came to put a hand on Yves' shoulder, smiling at him. "Your mother told me you were able to get Amy to calm down, telepathically."

"I did?"

Papa's brow furrowed. "Wasn't it what you intended?"

"I just focused -- I guess I did. Okay, wow." Yves grinned. "Maybe I'll try again next time she goes off. Not in school though."

"Good idea." Papa leaned and kissed his forehead, and went to the biobed where Mengis waited.

When he left sickbay he thought about spending some time walking around the ship, sneaking a peek into some of the restricted areas Papa rarely let him see. He'd done that successfully from time to time. His teacher would assume he had been waiting in sickbay, if he didn't spend too long doing it. But he resolutely returned to the right deck, and walked purposefully back to class. 

No more trouble, no more watching Papa struggle between anger and sorrow trying to decide what to do about it.


	6. Chapter 6

Jean-Luc left sickbay and hurried to the lift, aware that he was late -- really, Greg had no reason to be so thorough, he thought. It wasn't as though this year's physical had ended up being any different than the last one. 

When the door opened, Geordi's laughter spilled out of their quarters. Jean-Luc strolled in to find Kathryn and Deanna sitting at the table with their friend, who rose to his feet to take the hand Jean-Luc extended, as he approached with a grin.

"Good to see you, Geordi! How has the Gamma Quadrant been treating you?"

"Just as well as space exploration always treated us -- you know how it goes," Geordi exclaimed, grinning broadly. 

Jean-Luc took the chair on Deanna's left, and Geordi sat again. "You're coming with us to tour engineering, I hope -- we're supposed to go this afternoon. The new engineer will be coming aboard as well."

"Oh, yeah -- you mean Moreno," Geordi said. "I know Adalberto. He came aboard _Venture_ quite a few times, to visit his children."

Deanna made an amused sound, not exactly a giggle, at Jean-Luc's confusion. He didn't recall seeing a family listed in the engineer's bio. "He's talking about the transwarp engines, Jean. Mr. Moreno was most likely interested in the position because of the refit."

"Bert was on the transwarp project at Utopia Planitia for years. Leah worked with him for a while, when the Sovereign project was in the works. I figured you would know that already." Geordi picked up a forkful of pasta and resumed eating his lunch.

"Frankly, I haven't devoted much thought to that part of the man's file." The recommendation had come from the fleet admiral himself, after Batris had accepted a position at the San Francisco yards. 

"There are, of course, other things that the captain looks for in an officer," Deanna said, crossing the room to the replicator to get something for Jean-Luc. She asked the computer for a cobb salad, in deference to his current preferences. Mengis had lectured him some time back about getting more protein in his diet, if he intended to keep looking like a fifty-year-old. 

"I dunno," Geordi said, sounding as if he was starting to express some doubt. But his lips tightened, then he shifted gears. "Bert is a great engineer -- lots of innovative stuff came out of his lab, for sure. He'll be great at improvisation when it's needed."

Jean-Luc noticed Kathryn's confused expression out of the tail of his eye. "I hear a caveat," he commented. "You're going to say he won't fit in, with us."

Geordi leaned briefly back, looking at the ceiling, smiling as if to say he should know better than to assume. "It's just that being a great design engineer and being in the field don't always go together. You're going to be on the bridge yelling for him to get warp online and he'll be drawing up modifications to test on the holodeck when there's no time to do that. You don't get to use thorough and methodical sometimes. It's going to be like wrestling with Leah when she came aboard, that time on the 1701-D."

Deanna did giggle, then. Jean-Luc thought he probably didn't want to know why, but Geordi fell right into it.

"What's so funny, Deanna?"

"I didn't think Moreno would be your type," she said.

Geordi almost spat the mouthful of tea he'd just taken, but recovered quickly. "Damned empath," he blurted. "Figures you know about that."

"Wait," Jean-Luc said, doing a slow, excruciating double take.

"No, not what you think -- not at all," Geordi exclaimed, now showing anxiety, waving his hand as if to ward off the guessing. "I just had this -- well -- you know, I'm just going to say that I have a completely professional relationship with your new engineer and leave it at that."

"That's probably wise," Kathryn said, picking up her fork.

They talked about the challenges of command, specifically issues with relationships with the crew. It was completely different, being with these officers -- it occurred to Jean-Luc that having lunch and talking seriously about command was radically different from the bar back room swaggering he'd so often avoided, in years past. That instead of drinking and carousing with other captains, whenever they happened to get together, now he had conversations with them. 

The difference, he thought, was mostly due to the fact that he had been influential in the careers of LaForge and Troi, and in how Janeway handled the latter part of her journey home and her new command. It reminded him of a conversation with Deanna, in which she had remarked upon the data she'd accessed on the career trajectory of their cadets as compared to those who'd completed training in other settings. She had concluded that he was indeed a fine father figure, in a completely official way -- that their cadets were finding their footing in service much more quickly than others in their year. When he had blustered and put the credit on her, she'd shoved it right back, pointing out that most everything she knew about being a good officer, she'd learned from him.

Geordi took his leave of them to go check in with some friends still aboard, promising to meet them in engineering in an hour, and Deanna cleared the table. 

"You're being smug," she said, bringing him another cup of tea. "To think I was just explaining to Yves this morning -- "

"Stop that." He sighed, and endured one of her milder scowls. "I was only thinking about Geordi when he came aboard, as a lieutenant. I'm proud of him."

Deanna settled back in her chair and regarded him fondly. "You're proud of yourself."

"Because I get to have lunch with two of my officers, who went light years from where they started -- you've been just as amazing. And I am more than fortunate, in being there to watch you doing things that I never even thought of doing, at the same stage in my career."

Her eyes narrowed, as a frown mingled with the affection in her face. Kathryn sighed and picked up her coffee mug. "Here we go again."

"I'm not maligning myself. I simply didn't think about anything the way you do, or the way Deanna does -- I have a great deal of respect for the two of you, for the way each of you remain so firmly duty-focused, without severely compromising the needs of your families."

"It's not as though I anticipated doing any of it. My commanding officer told me I could." Deanna tilted her head, the frown replaced by one of those looks that said she'd imagined him to be made of chocolate mousse and intended to start licking any second now.

"If you're going to start with that I think I'll go -- I'd say get a room, but we're in it already," Kathryn said, rising to head for the exit. 

"Kathryn," he exclaimed, but she laughed, sailed out into the corridor, and the door closed behind her. He scowled at his first officer. "See what you did."

"I suppose I should have behaved, you were being the captain talking to an officer. But you were making me happy."

"Or hungry?"

"Both, I suppose." 

"Do you think Geordi's right, about Moreno?"

It pulled her back into her officer self well enough. "It's possible. I wonder though. Moreno didn't apply for the position -- he put himself on a list in hopes of a position on a starship, rather than requesting a posting here specifically. The opening was only posted for a week when he applied."

"Did Batris know him?"

"I don't think so. So no, he wouldn't have tipped him off prior to his transfer, to be sure Moreno would get it."

Jean-Luc stood. "I'm taking a walk. Want to come?"

They hadn't done it in a long time, and when they had, it'd been beta or gamma shift, sometimes with a baby trying to get through the cranky crying stage into sleep, sometimes just dealing with insomnia. Starting at the bottom of the ship, they walked corridors until they finished the deck, and moved up one. They didn't talk much along the way. Sometimes they ran into crew -- the lower decks were not heavily populated, however, and when they did see someone it was cause for pause, on the crew member's part, as the first officer and captain strolled by, nodding in tandem, looking like they might be enjoying a scenic walk instead of walking the rarely-seen corridors of their ship.

They ran out of time on deck 20 -- in the lift, instead of going to deck 19, he asked for deck 11, main engineering. "I suppose we'll never be able to walk the whole ship from bottom to top," he commented. The farthest he'd gotten had been deck 9, once, long ago before he'd invited her into his bed. 

"Do you really want to?" Deanna pursed her lips, thinking. "Computer, if I were to walk all the corridors of the _Enterprise_ , what would be the distance traveled?"

"Two hundred forty-two kilometers," the computer replied pleasantly.

They looked at each other in surprise. "Well, if the refit continues as it has, perhaps there will be time to try."

"At an average walking pace of two miles per hour, that would take us only a little less than two days. I'm not sure I'm up to that -- I really like sleeping with my husband."

They arrived in main engineering to find Geordi had already showed up, and he and a middle-aged man were already engaged in conversation, standing in front of the warp core, which was cold and dark. "Here's the captain," Geordi said, his head turning as they approached. "And Commander Troi, the first officer. This is Lieutenant-Commander Moreno."

"Mr. Moreno," Jean-Luc said in greeting, holding out a hand. The new engineer shook it -- gray eyes flicked from Jean-Luc's face to the pips on his collar, to Deanna as he turned to shake the first officer's hand, his polite smile warming as he did so. 

"Welcome aboard," Deanna said. She allowed a faint smile -- something was amiss, Jean-Luc thought. She wasn't even matching the faint warmth of the engineer's smile, and usually she met new crew with a moderately bright smile that spoke of pleasant and friendly times to come.

"I want to thank you for the opportunity -- I have been turned down by a number of other captains. Which makes me wonder why I have the honor of being accepted by the flagship."

Jean-Luc smiled, wondering himself. He didn't think there could be any malice in Admiral Adira's suggestion. "Could you give us a basic orientation as to how the transwarp drive differs from our old engines?"

He hadn't known it was possible, but Deanna managed to convey telepathically the sensation of an ass kicking, as the engineer happily launched into a detailed explanation that made Data in his early years sound positively informal and colloquial. 

After a few moments of shocked and amused observation, Geordi saved them from death by technicalities. "Hey, Bert, slow down. You're losing _me_."

"Oh, sorry," Moreno said, his smile wilting. He reminded Jean-Luc somewhat of Chakotay, but only insofar as he had dark black hair and a darker complexion than most. This man had a rounded chin, and while he appeared to be somewhat fit -- he had to have passed a physical fitness exam, after all, to qualify for ship duty -- he wasn't so trim as all that. In fact, he appeared to have a roll of midriff flab. The new all-black uniform with goldenrod piping at the cuffs wasn't doing him any favors. 

"The enthusiastic engineer is an important part of any starship crew," Deanna said, showing more warmth than before. "It must have been different, being surrounded by engineers all the time at Utopia -- most on a starship have a more general understanding of the engines. While I appreciate that you have a thorough grasp on the way our engines work, I have to ask for a simpler explanation. I was a counselor, before, not an engineer."

Now Moreno's expression shifted, and when his smile started to mirror Deanna's, Jean-Luc must have had a corresponding shift of expression when he felt dismay -- Geordi cleared his throat and patted Moreno on the shoulder. "Let's try that again. I think you were trying to explain the differences between conventional warp factors and the transwarp factors?"

With Geordi's help, Moreno got through a basic description of how to utilize the new drive -- unlike the transwarp that had been experimented with long ago, this drive got around the limitations of standard warp physics, not by adding more of the same but by essentially folding space. There were now three sets of engine aboard -- impulse, warp and, once the ship reached warp nine, the transwarp could kick in and slide them into a higher plane of subspace. The simpler version Deanna had requested quickly went to technicalities, and Deanna cut it short by asking for permission to head for the transporter room, as it was time for the cadets to begin boarding -- which meant that school was about to end. Of course, Janeway was going to take on the kids for the afternoon so that eliminated the need to pick them up.

After dismissing Deanna, Jean-Luc turned to Moreno and Geordi, noting that Geordi was giving him a look. He almost asked, but thought about it for a moment and grimaced. Yes, that was probably best explained now rather than later.

"Sir?" Moreno had noticed the wince.

"It's perhaps best if we move this to the briefing room," Jean-Luc said.

"I don't think he's going to overreact," Geordi said. That lead to Moreno looking askance at him. "He's a bit sensitive about telling people about his wife. He gets a bad reaction from people sometimes."

Moreno blinked and looked a little confused, proving that yes, he did need to be told. "I'm looking forward to meeting her, sir."

"That's my point -- you just did, Bert."

Another blink, accompanied by open-mouthed realization. "Oh. That's... not usual, is it?"

"Not so usual, but not unheard of. She was promoted while I was aboard, from counselor. It works real well, actually." Geordi smiled at Jean-Luc. "I learned a lot from her. Sometimes it surprises me, still, when I give an order and I realize I sound a whole lot like her. Or you, sir."

Jean-Luc spent a moment putting a damper on the odd mixture of pride and embarrassment, smiling at his former officer. "Have you been to the bridge yet, Mr. Moreno?"

It was Moreno's preference though to stay in engineering, to work on getting to know his new ship, his new subordinates, and he accepted an invitation to dine with the senior staff that evening. So Jean-Luc left, and though he expected Geordi to stay and talk engines, he came along, walking with him to the lift.

"It's good to see you, Geordi," he said. 

Geordi's head came up. He didn't seem to know what to say; in fact, he seemed nervous. It sparked questions, but then Jean-Luc remembered what Deanna had told Yves, and he thought about how in all those years the engineer had never been anything but respectful and polite, at least in his presence.

"I don't believe I've ever told you," he began, noting the way Geordi went still. "I'm proud of you."

The broad smile wasn't something he'd seen on LaForge often -- once in a while, after a particularly difficult but successful mission, perhaps. "Thank you, sir," he replied softly, clearly touched.

"Oh for -- Geordi, my name is Jean-Luc. You're starting to sound like you work here or something."

That resulted in a shocked expression. "I -- "

When he couldn't seem to continue, Jean-Luc sighed. "You've had four pips for four years, Geordi. I don't outrank you."

"I'm... it's a difficult adjustment to make, sir. I mean -- well, it's not just -- it feels wrong, to me. I guess it's not just that you're, well, who you are. It's that you're always going to be my captain. It's kind of like my dad expecting me to call him by name. Just doesn't feel right, somehow."

"Next you're going to tell me I need to make friends my own age?"

Geordi might be blushing. It was hard to tell. He struggled for a few moments and the lift stopped, and Jean-Luc led him out and down the corridor. It didn't seem to help that he'd taken them back to his quarters. Over the couch, the frame cycled from a picture of the kids in front of the house in LaBarre to the one of Deanna, standing proudly in uniform, alone on the bridge.

Geordi stared at the picture. He shook himself finally, following Jean-Luc to the couch, sitting down. "I guess... I adjusted to Deanna, being first officer. I guess I can adjust again."

Was he taking this as an order? Jean-Luc exhaled impatiently. "Geordi, what are you saying? Was it so hard, when she changed?"

At that Geordi laughed. "Are you kidding? You had the worst time of all!"

"Of course. I didn't imagine you'd had difficulties as well."

"Well... she and I were equals, for a while. And I wasn't used to how different she was, when she started to really take command. And it took me a while to hear orders from her, and not feel... honestly, it took a while for me to take her seriously. Not saying that I disobeyed or hesitated, when she gave orders. It just wasn't like... like an instinct. Not at first. Sort of like when Data was promoted. He was a friend, then he was giving me orders too."

Was this how everyone in the crew had reacted? Jean-Luc remembered being patient with her, when she'd shown insecurities as a first officer -- she'd had so much frustration with the incident at Telix, even though it had been obvious afterword that she'd done the unexpected, circumventing the lockdown programmed into the computer. He remembered the extreme concern he'd felt at finding that Carlisle was transferring, when he'd returned to duty following the incident at Khevlin. He remembered being dismissive of her concerns, shortly after she'd started in her new post and seemed to feel that she wasn't doing as well as she should. Once again, it seemed in hindsight that he'd been rather stupid. He'd known that as an empath she'd know what the crew's reactions to her would be -- he'd expected her to not care, any more than he did, how they felt. But now he tried to think about that a little more, put himself in her place, to think about how Yves was struggling with empathy -- 

"I didn't mean to -- " Geordi exclaimed.

"No, Geordi, I was just -- it's nothing," he replied, waving a hand, smiling at his friend. "Kathryn calls it 'masochistic introspection.' I suppose I need to break the habit."

Geordi didn't look too reassured; he still seemed a little concerned. But he tried to move on. "I think maybe I was too quick to judge Moreno. He might be okay. I guess I thought he was just jumping at the chance to be with a transwarp ship -- it sounded like he'd been trying for starship duty, regardless of the ship."

"I'll hope so. For a moment you had me worried -- honestly, I had taken the admiral's recommendation without much thought. There are precious few good engineers around any longer -- certainly none that could fill your shoes."

"Well." Geordi paused, seemed to be struggling for what to say again. "I -- I want to thank you. For getting me to the point that I'm hard to replace. Because I don't think I would have -- every time you promoted me I felt like I had to really push myself, so you wouldn't regret that you'd done it."

Jean-Luc stared at his former engineer, and started to wonder. "I wanted you aboard because you showed initiative and dedication above and beyond what I'd seen in some of the other officers I looked at."

LaForge smiled, almost ear to ear. "I was excited -- I wanted to impress you. I guess it worked." His smile faded, just a little. "Well, still -- thank you. Jean-Luc."

Jean-Luc chuckled, grinning, and nodded. "I'm honored to have been a part of your journey. Sir."

"Oh, no, no," Geordi exclaimed, laughing, holding up his hands. "That's just wrong!"

They were still laughing when Deanna got home, falling quiet when she didn't smile with them.

"Dee?" When she didn't respond, Jean-Luc leaped to his feet. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just feeling old," she said, giving him a wincing smile. "Remember Kenny Ching? He's one of our cadets, this time."

"Oh, dear," he said, then shook his head. "Well, I knew it was only a matter of time. I did write him a letter of recommendation."

"He's -- " Deanna turned to look at Geordi, then. "Geordi?"

Geordi came to his feet as well, straightening his uniform, looking ruefully at them. "Okay, getting it, now. Transitions are hard. But worth it."

"What are you two talking about?"

Jean-Luc shrugged. "Reminiscing, of course. I'm trying to get Geordi to talk to me like a peer."

"Then reminiscing should stop," Deanna said. "Not going to help. If you make me remember being counselor, you'll get a similar reaction."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes, I was scared to death of you."

Now Jean-Luc could feel his eyebrows climbing. "What?"

"Well, think about it. If you were my patient, and I completely failed at helping you recover, I would be to blame for Starfleet losing Captain Picard. If I were being an officer and couldn't manage to follow orders, I'd have been that disappointing officer who couldn't keep it together. It wasn't as though you hired me because you wanted the best counselor in the fleet -- it took you a while to even see counseling as something you would benefit from."

"What the hell are you saying? Did you -- " He glanced back and forth between them. Neither of them was smiling -- in fact, Geordi was starting to look anxious again and trying hard to contain it, and Deanna had put a hand over her mouth. "You're kidding -- you have to be teasing me. Aren't you?"

"You surprised me, when you finally stopped resisting and started talking to me in counseling," she said. "You actually cared about my career -- despite the fact that you didn't even know me, at that point, and you honestly wanted nothing to do with counseling, you did it anyway."

"I remember being surprised, that you promoted me to engineer -- I expected to be at the helm for a long time. You just did it, without even so much as a pep talk." Geordi smirked at the memory. "I just about killed myself getting up to speed on the ship's specs and trying to get the rest of engineering in line. I sometimes went in there thinking I didn't have the right to order people around, some of them had been in Starfleet for years longer than I was."

Deanna gave him a longsuffering smile, taking a step to reach for his hand. "Look at you -- what a change in perspective you're experiencing. Trying to get Geordi to look at you as an equal. The only reason I've ever been able to function all this time was how much that respect I have for Captain Picard continues to be there, no matter what happens."

He sighed, deeply, and gripped her fingers tightly before letting go. "I suppose I might have grown up, then, started to think of you as people," he said, and waited.

But she shook her head. "You're still my captain. You always will be. I suspect Geordi will always feel that sense of loyalty as well."

"But you're my friends," he said, turning to look at Geordi. "I didn't think it needed to be said. I thought you certainly must know how I felt...."

But Geordi's sudden inability to meet his eyes said no, and Deanna's tight grip on his hand steadied him while Geordi responded. "I kind of did, but I really didn't think it was -- I've never felt like you considered me a close friend."

"But you are a friend, Geordi. I've missed having you aboard, since you left."

Why would he be so surprised by that? Geordi gaped at him. Jean-Luc didn't know what to say, then, and out of reflex reached for Deanna, who came willingly into his arm.

"I hope you come to dinner with us tomorrow night, Geordi," she said, helping them escape from the awkward moment. "Kathryn will be here, with her two daughters. Yves would love to see you again. You'll be surprised at how much he's grown."

"Thanks. I'll be here. I should get going -- I have a few things to get done today. Thanks, Cap -- thanks, Jean-Luc."

"See you later, Geordi." Jean-Luc smiled and watched the young man leave.

"You surprised him."

"I have missed him. I've been too busy to stay in contact -- I've allowed myself to be too busy." He exhaled, frustrated. "I don't want to lose any of the few friends I have left."

Deanna slid her hand up his bicep and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Neither do I. Did I tell you he published that book he wrote, finally? The one I helped him with?"

"I should read it."

"You should. He thanked me in the foreward, for helping him with it, but he dedicated it to you."

Jean-Luc closed his eyes. All this time he could have been maintaining a better relationship with Geordi -- and thinking that he might have ignored something that caused his wife pain didn't help.

"Jean, why are you feeling so guilty?"

"You used to tell me you felt as though you weren't doing your job well enough, as first officer."

"Jean-Luc, don't you dare," his wife exclaimed, angry. "Don't you drag me into the past."

Sighing, he opened his eyes to find himself in the path of a Betazoid Death Glare. "You've always met my standards, Deanna. All I've ever expected of any of my officers was their best -- I've never had any reason to doubt that you gave me that. You've said that I challenged you, made you grow, and I've no doubt you did so of your own desire to become more than you were. You could have always transferred, if my expectations were too high."

But now he got the longsuffering, resigned smile again. "If you want to see it that way."

Those were fighting words -- but he felt quite tired and not wanting to do that, at the moment. "What are you doing home, anyway?"

She was laughing at him. "You've lost track of time, haven't you? It's almost the end of the shift. We're supposed to meet in your dining room."

That led back around to another issue. "Dee, what do you think of Moreno?"

Her hesitation was almost as telling as her greeting of the man had been.

"I told him -- Geordi told him, that we're married."

A smile, at that. "Thank you."

"Oh for -- bloody hell, Deanna, why not just say something?"

"Suspecting something about an officer on a personal level is not adequate grounds for the captain to make staffing decisions."

"Computer," he began, pausing to hold up a finger -- Deanna closed her mouth again and crossed her arms, frowning at him. "Cross reference the name Adalberto Moreno with any non-Starfleet news articles published in the last year."

"There are fifteen articles containing the name Adalberto Moreno."

"Do you really want to do this? Have you ever done this?" Deanna sounded frustrated. 

He hesitated. Would it make a difference? Not likely. It might make things worse, to know whatever had put the man's name in the media. Admiral Adira must have known about it, and had made the recommendation anyway. Starfleet didn't interfere in the personal lives of officers. 

"Let's go have dinner."

In the lift, he tried to put himself in a better frame of mind, setting aside the frustrations and anxieties. Deanna put her hand through his arm, and walked with him that way as they exited on deck two.

"Dee?"

"You still trust my judgment on this, I hope. Because I'd like to make it obvious how unavailable I am."

"Wait -- weren't you at my wedding? I could have sworn -- "

She gave him a look that shut him up. They came to the door and strolled through with her hanging from his arm in a way she'd never done, clinging to him like one of her mother's damned vines, and the surprised looks on the faces of his senior staff led to glancing at her again. He almost froze in place at the look on her face. She never looked at him like that anywhere there were officers, let alone their own staff.

"I'll get you something to drink." She left his side, and thankfully everyone's eyes followed her, leaving him a few moments of recovery time. Moreno was standing on the other side of the table, with Mengis and the counselor. deLio and Paul Edison, who had been promoted to second officer when Mendez transferred to take a posting on the _Io_ the year before, stood aside as Deanna headed for the replicator at the other end of the room.

"I thought I saw Geordi today," Edison said, giving him something to do other than worry about what Deanna was up to.

"Yes, he's on his way back out to the Gamma Quadrant, as I understand. Stopped in to say hi -- he'll be back aboard tomorrow."

The counselor came around the table, smiling, and as she approached Jean-Luc wished he could find a way to feel more relaxed in her presence. Davidson had moved back to Earth six months ago, back to private practice and to start teaching part time at Starfleet Academy, and this was his replacement. At least with Deanna's help he'd found a psychologist with Starfleet experience, hard to do given the longstanding recruitment difficulties that were slowly improving. 

The problem was, Keela Keller was too aware that she had an effect on men -- she was shapely, with long strawberry-blond hair and a brilliant smile. Taller than Deanna, and with bright blue eyes. While he had made clear to her from the first session his monogamous state, he kept feeling the hair on the back of his neck rising with every step she took in his direction. 

"I suppose I don't need to tell you it's that time again," Keller said apologetically. "We need to finish the annual review."

"There's supposed to be an officer arriving shortly, I've been told, from Starfleet Command. First time they've sent someone in years." He paused to smile at Dee, who brought him a cup of tea. "Commander Brockenoff?"

"Bokaryov," she corrected, sighing. "Hundreds of diplomatic successes to your credit, and you can't remember a single name?"

"Part of my problem, I suppose -- memory's full, no room for anything else."

"You're going to be lucky if Keela stays aboard for more than a year, at this rate," Deanna said, but softened the chide with a smile that said she was teasing.

"I wanted to tell you, now that I have you both in the same room, how much I appreciate that you chose me -- what an honor to be on the flagship, with the two of you." Keela was looking, for once, at Deanna. "I haven't had the chance to tell you, we've been so busy, but I wrote a paper about post-assimilation care, based mostly on what you've written on the subject."

At that, Jean-Luc swaggered off toward the head of the table, casting a smug look at Deanna, and took a sip of Earl Grey before asking Greg about the state of the upgrades in sickbay. He didn't have to keep track of Deanna's reaction -- he knew she paid no more attention to what the rest of those in her field thought about her than he did. He also knew that her reputation was better than she thought it was.

Dinner progressed as these things usually did -- people replicated meals of their choosing and sat down together, and conversation mostly focused on work, and on orienting the new senior staff member of the day. Moreno had been mostly focused on explaining the new engines, but as Deanna returned with dessert -- some variation of chocolate, of course, featuring decadent amounts of fudge topping -- the engineer's eyes tracked it to the table, then focused on her as she sat across from him at Jean-Luc's right hand, where she usually sat. As Jean-Luc contemplated what to say to dislodge the man's gaze from her chest, fuming, Deanna took a moderately-sized bit of chocolate in her spoon and offered it to Jean-Luc, giving him a much-dimmer-than-usual version of her lascivious expression along with it.

She'd done this occasionally. He would normally have given her a look, and she would have shrugged and put it in her own mouth, but he let her feed it to him and brushed away a fleck of whipped cream with his napkin, gazing cooly at Mengis' wide eyed look. "You should try this, it's good," he said as if nothing at all unusual had happened.

"You know it must be -- he's not nearly as fond of chocolate as I am." Deanna smiled pleasantly at Mengis and got herself another spoonful of the dark chocolate confection.

Jean-Luc went to recycle his own dishes, and request another cup of tea. When he returned he noticed Moreno was now speaking to the person on his immediate left, Edison, about the operations department and how the second officer wanted to coordinate with engineering. At least that meant Moreno was putting effort into settling into his post, instead of leering at the first officer. 

Mengis asked about the schedule -- the refit was running slightly long, they had been scheduled to depart the starbase for a trial run of the new engines several hours ago -- so he could anticipate completion of crew physicals for the month on time. The next mission was in the Beta Quadrant, once again heading into Randra space for yet another attempt to establish relations with another species that might prove to be a decent ally. That led to Deanna answering, while Jean-Luc sipped tea and added to her summary of the tasks yet to be completed. 

"Are we still having a staff meeting in the morning?" deLio asked, the first time he'd spoken all evening.

It led to scattered laughter. Jean-Luc smiled at his security chief. "It would appear that there's little left to discuss, true. And as noted we have quite a bit to finish before we push off," he gestured at the wide viewport above, which was obscured by one of the immense beams comprising the lattice around the ship that facilitated major work on the hull and engines, "and leave for the Beta Quadrant. So perhaps we should postpone the staff meeting until the work is done."

"I'm afraid you'll have to get used to social gatherings of the senior staff being informal meetings, Mr. Moreno," Deanna said. "It's one of the things about being aboard a starship -- we all tend to focus on our work for the majority of our waking hours. It actually takes more effort for some of us to take time off."

Jean-Luc looked up from his cup to find her staring at him. "What? I took time off just last year!"

"I probably have you to thank for his showing up on time for his physical this morning," Mengis told Deanna.

"No, actually he managed to get there without reminders. Despite his memory problems." She smirked at him.

The event ended in the gradual way, with people taking their leave and heading off to quarters. Moreno was one of the first to go, thanking everyone for the warm welcome aboard, and then deLio, Edison, and Mengis. Leaving only the counselor and first officer -- Keller had something to say, still, as she moved over to sit in Moreno's empty chair.

"I'll confess to only being aboard for six months, which is nothing by comparison to how long the rest of you have been here -- more than two decades on the same ship is almost unheard of," Keller said. "But it struck me that the surprised looks from senior staff tonight must mean something has changed."

Jean-Luc felt a little defeated, having turned to her twice in one day to put words to something he couldn't sort out, but Deanna gave him no cause to regret his failures. Continuing to accept her help in such matters obviously paid off. He glanced at her, and she countered the counselor's assumption without hesitation.

"You are correct. I don't act that way, because it's not something the captain is comfortable with aboard his vessel. However, we are welcoming aboard a new senior staff member and I am circumventing potential issues that he has had in other placements. The captain makes staffing decisions based on the ability of the officer to do the job he needs done. Mr. Moreno was recommended to us by the fleet admiral. I am responding to what I sense from Mr. Moreno, to give him a consistent message that I'm unavailable, so that I don't have to face a situation where our professional relationship becomes awkward because I had to reject his advances."

Keller stared at her across the table. "You're allowing personal considerations to influence the way you react to other officers?"

Deanna smiled faintly. "Not exactly. I'm allowing professional considerations to influence the personal. I could wait and address his documented disregard for the marital status of women he's attracted to, _when_ it occurs. I've sensed enough from him to know it would be only a matter of time. I've been in Starfleet most of my life, among humans of all kinds -- it's a fairly obvious thing to sense, now. I don't want my commanding officer to lose good staff, if it can be avoided, and since this is an informal event, not a staff meeting, and we are surrounded by friends, I felt it was a safer place to demonstrate my affection for my husband than other options -- we don't do anything like that in front of the crew at large, nor would we approach such an issue professionally. The surprise you saw in the rest of the senior staff was more about our having done any of that in front of someone new, a relative stranger. They've witnessed similar behavior when we've invited them to social events on the holodeck."

"Which hasn't happened in a long time," Jean-Luc added, trying to explain why Keller hadn't seen it herself. "That reminds me -- if this refit is to delay us, we may as well have one."

"I'll see if I can work one into the schedule."

Keller didn't seem completely convinced, but the explanation had helped decrease the doubt. She smiled -- a professional, polite counselor's smile. Nodding, she stood. "Well, I'll see you both tomorrow -- if you have time?"

"I can meet with you in the morning, between my meeting with the school staff and my mok'bara class," Deanna said. "Since there's no staff meeting."

A more genuine smile, at that. "Thanks, see you then." Keller left them at a sedate stroll. When the door shut behind her, Jean-Luc sighed heavily.

"Moreno has a documented history of affairs with married women?" he exclaimed, turning to his first officer.

Shaking her head slowly, she gave him a look. When he didn't stop glaring, she put words to it. "You cannot make staffing decisions based on personal deficiencies. You had no way of predicting whether Moreno would even find me attractive. And once he did, you had no way of addressing that, any more than you did with Lieutenant Bridges -- you resorted to sneaking around to arrange a situation that bludgeoned Bridges with the truth without saying a word to him."

"And so you make the same mistake, deciding what to do without consulting me at all. In front of a counselor, no less, who is doing our annual review into the bargain."

At that, she brought her hands to her face and winced, elbows on the table. "I'm sorry."

Jean-Luc put a hand on her arm -- not exactly a husband, but not exactly the captain, either. They were sitting in between, trying to renegotiate boundaries in an attempt to address this. "I know why you did it. I think. Do you?"

She smiled, letting her arms drop to the table. "Trying to impress the captain, again. Because you never wanted us to waste your time -- get the options understood, present them, and in some cases it was appropriate to just implement the solution. It felt like the only thing I could offer, to stop what I sensed was coming at me -- he has a definite type, after all. One of his affairs was even Betazoid. And when we met in engineering, he was feeling such an emotional response that I doubt he would have paid any attention to my marital status -- it's almost as though he prefers married women, if you look at his previous affairs. He really does not want anything that could be permanent. There are those who have open relationships, you know -- it's not an unusual adaptation to being a 'Starfleet widow' in a long distance relationship."

"Another reason this works so well for me, I don't have to imagine who you're with while I'm -- Dee," he exclaimed at the dismayed expression on her face at that.

"I wouldn't," she blurted.

Sighing, he reached for her as he stood, and she rose as well and stepped into his arms. "Why are you crying?"

"You weren't even joking about it. You would imagine resigning yourself to it, if we were living apart -- I couldn't, Jean-Luc, it hurts that you would think I would even consider it!"

And now he wondered at himself for thinking that way -- but at times over the years, when opportunities came up and made him contemplate, he'd tried to imagine it, what would happen if she decided she wanted her own vessel. She did have increased libido, post-Phase -- it was obvious to him that he could not realistically expect her to deprive herself of something she clearly enjoyed. It wasn't even something he'd believed would happen, merely a possibility, something he almost wished she would do because he thought she would make an excellent ship captain, if the issue of the pain of separation could be addressed. One of the internal conflicts he'd had off and on -- treat her like any of his officers, encourage her to advance, or keep her close and find some compromise that would be less rewarding but allow her to promote just the same. 

Then there was the conclusion that he'd come to, at some point -- that he had to accept that she would outlive him, be without him for perhaps a third of her own life span. It made him feel even less able to continue to assert that their relationship would remain as it was -- he would likely be unable to meet that need for her well before he died, even.

Again, he found himself speechless, comforting her while trying to see how to explain how he'd gotten to the assumption she'd taken exception to. But thinking about it was enough. She leaned against him, head to his shoulder, and the tears stopped while she thought about it with him. Her frustration and fear while contemplating the same issues ebbed with his.

"I understand, but you're not completely informed," she murmured at last. Standing back, she left her hands on his shoulder and at his waist, looking him in the eye. "You silly, silly man. I'm not about to let you go anywhere without me, for long. What makes you think I would enjoy sex half as much, with someone other than my bondmate?"

So she was choosing to stay in the present, for now. He nodded, silently assenting to leave the future as it would continue to be -- uncertain, and undecided.

"Stupid." He almost felt that way, quite stupid, except for the grin on her face. 

"Only you could be so irrational and rational, at the same time."

"You appear to be the only one noticing, so I guess I'm all right," he said with a snort. 

Deanna cocked her head, thinking a little longer. "You really would let me do whatever I wanted to make me happy. I suppose that means I should be careful what I ask for."

"I trust that you will use that power only for good," he said, trying not to grin at it.

"If taking over the galaxy is out of the question, perhaps I should settle for requesting a back rub," she said, almost-laughing and being sly.

"That appears to be harmless enough."

"Good. I have a knot in my lower back. Shall we go let Kathryn take her children to her quarters? It feels like our own are tired enough that they'll go to bed willingly enough."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leah Brahms was one of the designers of the Galaxy class ship, whom Geordi created a holo-consultant of in one episode, developing a crush on her. In a followup episode the real Leah comes aboard and disillusions him - she tells him she has a husband.


	7. Chapter 7

Yves slapped a red piece into place. "Kadis-Kot!"

"That's not fair," Amy whined. Ros made a face and jumped up from her knees, running to the replicator.

"What are you doing, young lady?" Kathryn called out from the couch. She was teaching the twins how to do their math homework.

"Can I have ice cream, Mom?"

"You had some after dinner. So no, you may not."

Ros frowned, but came back over to fall on the floor next to Yves. "Let's play something else."

"Like Klingons and Cardassians," Amy said.

A burst of shock from Kathryn brought Yves' attention to her. "What did you say?"

"It's a game," Yves said. "Papa doesn't let us play it, but some of the other kids in school have it." Amy scowled at him for the explanation, and rightly so. She'd wanted to play it after her friends told her how much fun it was.

"I don't like the sound of that. And if your father doesn't like it, surely there's a good reason. Why don't you get out a different game?"

The door opened, and they rose to their feet -- Papa came in, followed by Maman. And then it was time to say goodnight, and watch Ros and Nina leave with their mother. 

"When do I get to meet the new engineer?" Yves asked, as Maman walked the twins to their rooms. He remembered spending time with Geordi, when he was little, and Batris used to play games with him during the school picnics. 

Papa turned from Amy's hug and raised an eyebrow. Why would he be worried about Yves meeting one of the crew? "Maybe tomorrow."

"Okay," Yves said, turning to head for his room. "Good night, Papa."

As he put on pajamas and put his clothes in the hamper in the corner of his closet, Yves knew Maman was talking to Amy, from the patient yet slightly frustrated tenor of her emotions -- discussing the upset in school made Amy anxious, even angry as she tried to defend her behavior. But Maman wasn't letting Amy get away with anything, and eventually Amy calmed down and felt the guilt and agreed that she needed to work on being more patient with Toby. It was a familiar sequence that repeated with Amy. Being assertive without verbal aggression, Maman would say, is what needs to happen. 

Yves looked at the bookshelf and chose a novel -- one of the books Counselor Davidson had given him, before he'd left, a science fiction novel -- then climbed into bed. He missed Fidele. He'd gotten used to reading out loud to the dog and talking to him about the story. 

The door slid open, and Maman came in. While missing his dog, he'd lost track, but now he could sense Papa in one of his serious moods -- no telling what he thought about that would put him in those states of sadness, anger, frustration, or even anxiety, but usually Maman said Papa was thinking about the past. And Maman knew about that too, as well as whatever Yves was feeling. As she sat on the edge of his bed, however, her own emotions of sadness and frustration and concern rolled away somewhere, and he wished he could do the same. Then Papa must have gone in the bedroom, behind the generator, so Yves was left with his own feelings, and murmurings of anxiety from the twins and Amy.

"You did well today," she said, reaching to smooth his hair, leaning to kiss his forehead. Then she smiled, and let her feelings come back, only now they were warm and proud and happy. "You're starting to do things with intention."

"I didn't know what I was doing. I just tried to do what you said to. It did something else." He knew she could remember the memory of it.

"You need to practice saying what you mean, in Standard. It will help you. I can't always be there to know what you're thinking."

Maman had started encouraging him to do that last year, but he preferred how she would read him telepathically -- it was so much easier. But even as he thought that, she gave him the mental push to realize that if he wanted friends of all kinds, all species, he needed to be able to adapt, since humans were not at all telepathic.

"If Papa isn't telepathic how come you can hear him?"

"I told you about the bond, before. That can happen sometimes with someone you love."

"Why is Papa sad again?" It didn't happen all the time -- it could be weeks sometimes, or even a few months. Yves had asked a long time ago after he'd started being able to sense things. Maman had been vague, but maybe she would tell him now that he was showing better control.

Now Maman was trying not to feel sad -- her face softened, and he could tell she struggled with wanting to help him, but also not wanting to make him sad too. "Your father was thinking about the past today. It will happen when old friends come to visit. Geordi was here today."

He could sense that she was holding something back. "You're trying to protect me from the rest of it."

A smile, at that. "Maybe I want you to not have to think about things that worry you. I think you would be worried if I told you everything."

"Papa worries sometimes -- he tries to joke about being old, but he -- it's something about you. He always has this -- it's like a unique color, or flavor, when he thinks about you. And when he jokes with Aunt Kathy about being old, he feels this flash of worry, and it's -- "

He had to stop. Though she was still smiling, he could see tears piling up in her eyes, about to spill over. She leaned, gathering him close, and he threw his arms around her neck. And then she was working through a bunch of emotions he had difficulty untangling, trying to decide what to say -- indecision was a particular blend of anxiety and concern.

Finally she sat back and seemed more composed. "Your father is older than I am," she said slowly, and at first he thought she believed he wouldn't understand. But he realized her hesitation was because she didn't want to tell him -- but she also wanted to be honest. He knew that well. She wanted to help her children understand emotions they sensed, instead of living in confusion and fear. "Betazoids live longer than humans do, and he's already thirty years older than I am. It's likely that I will live much longer than he will, and that I will have to take care of him as he gradually becomes so old that he is disabled. He doesn't want that to happen, but he has no control over it. He doesn't like that it will affect me as he knows it will."

"But by the time that happens we'll be old enough to help you. Won't we?"

Maman stared at him so long, feeling so -- he lost words for the feelings, they were overwhelming him. He'd given up on trying not to cry when things like this happened, so he dabbed at his eyes with his blanket while Maman recovered. There was a lot of happiness and pride, but a lot of other feelings -- shock, even a little regret. And then it all subsided, leaving her with the pride and the hope, plus determination.

"Only if you want to, petit. You know we want you to follow whatever path you feel led to take. You can't tie yourselves to us out of a promise you make when you're so young. Let's see how things go, all right? We have plenty of time to figure all that out."

"Okay. Are you going to help Papa now?"

"Yes. If he needs it. He doesn't always, you know."

"Is he all right?" Yves asked, watching her face. "I saw him in sickbay when I went to get something for my headache."

"He had a physical today. We do that every year. You seem worried about him today."

"I know he's all right. I know he feels things and it's nothing for me to worry about, but it's hard to sense them and not feel them too. If Papa's worried about something it must be something serious."

Maman went serious, looking at him, and sighed. "Sometimes it is. Sometimes, he thinks about things he can't control, and he wishes he could. It's how people feel sometimes when they care about you -- he wants nothing but the best possible outcome, for me and for you and your sisters and Pierre. He's used to just expecting things to happen and having the crew jump to make it so -- but family is different. Friends, too."

Yves looked down at the book in his lap, thinking about things he'd sensed from his friends' parents, how none of them were quite so angry or sad as Papa. There were times the entire crew became anxious, afraid -- that was because of a mission, usually. It made sense to feel that way, during a red alert. Those were the times Papa seemed to be the least afraid -- sometimes he became angry, or tense, but when he focused and stayed that way until the end of a confrontation or emergency, all the rest of it went away. And then he would feel relief, happiness, satisfaction -- things that made it easy to be with him.

"Your father is unique, Yves. It's one of the things that I have always enjoyed about him. I know he has difficulty talking to you sometimes -- I hope you'll talk to him anyway. He worries when you don't."

"What? Why?"

Maman ran her hand over his hair again and leaned closer. "He's afraid he'll do something wrong. He's afraid it means you don't trust him."

"I just don't want him to feel bad. He gets angry -- I don't think it's at me, but it sort of feels like it's about me, somehow."

And she hugged him again, sitting with him and rocking slightly until they both felt calmer, as she helped him meditate the anxiety away. She kissed his forehead and left the room without a word. 

No longer interested in the book, he shoved it on the night stand and turned out the light, curling up under his blanket and trying to get to sleep. Maman went beyond the field generator, and then it was only the murmur of the feelings of his siblings to patter against his mind like small moths.


	8. Chapter 8

Deanna came in with such speed that he sat up in bed and almost went in the bathroom after her. "Dee?"

After a few moments, she returned and sat at the dressing table. Pips came off, hair combs came out, the jacket, the shirt -- she brushed her hair, appearing to be as relaxed as usual, but he knew something was causing her tension. He waited for her to come to bed. If it were something urgent, she would have responded by now. 

But she put on a green night shirt and came to sit on the edge of the bed, looking down at him, instead of climbing in with him. "Jean-Luc."

"Yes?" 

She sighed, shaking her head. "I want to get something straight, with you."

He sat up, letting his right leg fall off the edge of the bed, and faced her -- with the bigger bed they had several feet of distance between them. While he thought about going to her, there was something in her manner that gave him pause. When she finally started to release the solid block she'd held to keep her feelings from him, he understood that this was going to be difficult -- the sadness and anxiety were not promising.

"Here is my plan. I acknowledge that plans often change, but I want you to understand this is the general goal that I have," she began, looking him in the eye, without so much as a blink. "I will be here as first officer until you take a promotion, and follow you off to wherever that promotion leads you, taking whatever steps I need to take to stay with you. I will stay with you until you retire, and afterward, until you die, doing whatever I need to do at that time to be sure we are both healthy and happy for as long as we can be. I will grieve, probably for a longer time than anyone would like, and then I will return to Starfleet after however long a sabbatical I took to be with you and care for you, possibly returning to space in whatever fashion is appropriate, until such time that my own retirement comes. Then I will live with my children and grandchildren until I join you again. If you think that any of this is yours to determine, you can stop that."

He smiled in spite of the blend of fear and resignation that summation brought both of them. "Yes, ma'am."

"Stop thinking about it. You incredibly wonderful, frustrating, oblivious man."

"Yes, ma'am."

Deanna threw herself down on the bed, climbing under the covers, and he joined her in the middle of the bed.

"Was it something I said?"

She sighed, putting her head on his shoulder. "Your son is perfectly aware that you worry about me -- he's taken almost a year to get to where it took me more than fifteen years to be, in terms of understanding and controlling his empathy, and he's picking up things and putting them together quickly. Joking about things is your way of dealing with them, but he knows what's under the joke. He's not yet able to just let you feel whatever you feel and ignore it, but he won't talk to you about that because he's worried about his Papa and not wanting to make you angry. That you're angry about situations and not at him does not matter to him."

"Oh." Another chain of thought and anxiety started.

"You cannot help what you feel, or think about -- I don't want you to be anything but yourself. He has to sort it out for himself. I can help him. So can you, by talking to him regardless of how you think you're mangling things. You'll help him by being yourself, in all your lovely angst-ridden complicated well-meaning ways."

"I'm seriously beginning to wonder why the hell you wanted to have children with me, at this point."

Deanna pushed herself up and smiled at him, deviously, and he inched away slightly. "Giving you hell isn't what you wanted me to do?"

He didn't give in to the urge to kiss her, yet. "Well, I've always been quite selective, about hell-giving. Extremely so. I suppose the fact that you are here means you're giving me the very best hell possible."

"Are you in agreement with my plan?"

"I will adjust my expectations accordingly. As usual, your plan is superior to my thoughts on the matter."

She gazed at him through her eyelashes, losing the amusement. "Stop thinking about things you read about Betazoids. Start asking me what I want. I am not doing anything to diminish my life or sacrifice any of my own happiness, in planning as I do."

"I suppose I can't expect to have you suggesting _evhi na ahnia_ any time soon, then."

Her eyes went wider. "What the hell have you been reading now?"

"Not me. Yves asked me what it was, the other day when I was trying to see how his homework was going. He wanted to know where all your other husbands are, as well."

Now Deanna looked angry. He watched her eyes lose surprise and turn suspicious. "I think our son is almost as devious as we are. He knows what that is. And now he knows how you react to requests for you to explain wild orgiastic sex."

A burst of laughter bubbled up in his chest. "Good God -- what have we done? What a little monster."

"You're going to talk to him about this, too. Apparently we need to do more than talk to get the point across. Let me think about this."

"You can think tomorrow -- you're not paying enough attention to your lonely, sole husband and his -- "

"Bridge to Captain Picard -- sir, we're getting a message from the starbase, appealing to any available starship to respond to a distress call."

Both of them were out of bed and moving midway through the sentence. Deanna threw him a clean uniform from a drawer, and opened another to get one for herself.

"Contact the engine room -- page senior staff to the bridge. Get the warp engines online."

They were out and in the lift in minutes, and Deanna paged one of the lieutenants from her list of babysitters to go to their quarters on the way to deck one. "We might not need to go," she said. "Geordi can respond, and there was one other vessel yesterday, the _Mongolia_ \-- it should still be within range."

They entered the bridge and strode down to their stations. From the aft lift came Edison, followed by the flight control officer, Mr. Dulles. deLio arrived seconds later.

"deLio, do we have the distress call?" Jean-Luc asked. 

"Aye, sir. Here it is." The security chief manipulated his console and the message began -- Jean-Luc frowned. It was Corey Zweller.

"Mayday, mayday -- the _Mongolia_ is being evacuated following an attack. The ship is breaking up. We are evacuating personnel in escape pods. The engines are going critical -- "

"That's all of it, sir," deLio said as the message ended. "I have the last known position of the vessel."

"Engineering to bridge -- this is Lieutenant Trolas, reporting. We are preparing for a cold start of the engines. Warp in ten minutes."

"LaForge to Picard," came the next comm. "We're going ahead -- should we assume you're joining us?"

"Yes, Geordi. We're about ten minutes behind you." Jean-Luc glanced up at deLio again. "Inform the starbase we're departing and to get any pods or shuttles back to dock, out of our way." There were repairs left to be done, but nothing of substance, that would affect their ability to do battle. He had specifically ordered major work to be done first, to have them ready to deploy at a moment's notice, with subsidiary systems being less a priority than defense of the sector. The refit had been done at this starbase instead of taking the ship all the way back to sector 001, because it was more important to be ready -- this sector bordered Randra space, and their ongoing standing assignment was to respond to any threat without delay.

"Red alert," Deanna announced from her chair. "All hands -- we are departing the starbase in response to a distress call. Prepare for battle. This is not a drill."

Jean-Luc stood in the center of the bridge, his eye on the ops console over Edison's shoulder. The status of the warp drive remained dim. At eight minutes, he snapped, "Status, Mr. Edison."

"The warp drive is still offline."

"Picard to engineering!"

"Moreno here -- we have full impulse, working on starting the warp drive -- "

"What happened to the cold start of the warp core?"

A pause. "That procedure is -- "

"-- not ideal, risky, but we are responding to an attack, and we don't have time to talk about it! Get the drive online!"

It took another ten minutes, during which Jean-Luc paced and scowled, after ordering Dulles to take them out of the scaffolding, away from the starbase at best possible speed. Full impulse wouldn't catch them up to their sister ship for weeks, however, so until the indicator on the ops board lit up he fumed and refrained from cursing. 

He ordered warp nine -- they were dropping out of warp moments later, the shields up, and on the viewscreen they saw the Intrepid class vessel in distress, surrounded by ships -- _Venture_ was fully engaged, shields flaring under fire, and Jean-Luc ordered a barrage of phaser fire and a course change, angling in from behind to attack the six smaller vessels. The _Mongolia_ was missing the aft nacelle, which drifted far to the left, where one of the alien vessels was apparently putting a tractor beam on it.

He glanced at Deanna -- she met his gaze soberly and said nothing. Not telepaths, then.

"Contact the _Venture_ ," he exclaimed as a second ship exploded in a silent ball of orange and blue flame.

"LaForge here -- thanks for coming."

The lift at the back of the bridge opened. Jean-Luc glanced at the first officer and got a warning look, and turned back to the viewer. "Let's drop a quantum torpedo into the middle of this. Maneuver gamma four," he exclaimed.

The other vessel began a turn, rotating on its Z axis, and Dulles' fingers flew as he had the _Enterprise_ mirroring the other ship as they moved farther from the enemy vessels. A glance at a wire frame representation on a monitor to the right, over an auxiliary station, confirmed that they were in position five minutes later. 

"Fire," Jean-Luc said, and two quantum torpedoes left each ship, traveled to the prearranged locations within the small armada, and promptly exploded -- when the bridge shook in the aftermath, he rode the movement with a flex of the knees, and heard someone stumble against a console at the back of the bridge. 

"All vessels disabled," deLio reported. "Two of the alien vessels are experiencing energy buildup -- critical in four minutes."

"Get a tractor beam on the _Mongolia_. How many escape pods in the area? Start beaming them aboard."

They were pulling the disabled _Mongolia_ away at full impulse as the alien vessels reached core breach and exploded, shaking the bridge again. "Two other alien vessels were destroyed in the explosion. The remaining two are retreating at impulse," deLio announced. "Minor damage to the battle section, decks twenty through twenty-three. The _Mongolia_ sustained minor damage to the starboard nacelle, but they were mostly protected by our shields." It was now standard practice, after many similar incidents, to extend the shields around a smaller vessel in tow during a red alert.

"Did we lose any escape pods?"

deLio checked a few things and raised his eyes from the console. "We beamed aboard ten, the _Venture_ was able to rescue twenty-five. There are another forty-two pods outside the radius of the blast. It is unknown if any were captured by the alien vessels."

"Picard to _Mongolia_ \-- Captain Zweller?"

After a moment, it was obvious that the comms were down, or no one was conscious or alive to respond. 

"deLio, status of the _Mongolia_?"

"Several lower decks have lost atmosphere but the ship is intact above deck twelve. I read a dozen life signs, in sickbay and above deck six."

Jean-Luc glanced at Deanna -- she rose and headed for the top of the bridge. "Mr. deLio, four more security officers -- sickbay, send a medical team to transporter room one for an away mission, and be prepared for casualties."

"Geordi, I recommend you go after those last two ships and attempt contact again. Find out what this was about and if they have prisoners to recover." He knew that Geordi would have hailed the ships, tried to warn them off even, before resorting to a firefight. 

"Will do, Captain. We'll be back. LaForge out."

Jean-Luc crossed his arms. The waiting was harder than anything else. "Mr. Dulles, all stop. Drop ship's status to yellow alert. Mr. deLio, stay on top of the sensors. Mr. Edison, I will be in my ready room."

He got his cup of tea, set it on the desk, ordered up the damage reports and then asked for information about the _Mongolia_ \-- what it was on assignment to do, where it had been, where it was going. The annunciator interrupted him.

"Come," he snapped, knowing it wasn't Deanna. He could sense her farther away, her distant state of anxiety barely registering.

Moreno came in warily, glancing around, and stood at attention in front of his desk. 

"At ease. Have a seat, Mr. Moreno." Jean-Luc turned to face the engineer, picking up his cup. 

"I apologize for my delay in following orders," Moreno said.

"It occurs to me that the admiral may have recommended you to us because we are a training vessel, in addition to our need of a good engineer. I am aware that you have not necessarily been in battle before, other than simulations."

Moreno looked surprised. 

"However, when there is a red alert, you are expected to follow orders without delay. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir. I knew that we would be -- "

"That will be all, Mr. Moreno."

Another stunned look. He looked as though he might start talking again, probably to ask questions.

"I will refer you to the first officer for more instruction in standard operating procedure while at yellow and red alert -- after the alert is over and we are returned to the starbase to drop off rescued personnel. Dismissed."

Jean-Luc didn't look at the man again, turning back to the monitor to continue to analyze whether there might have been a reason for the attack on the _Mongolia_. The door opened and closed, a few moments later.

An hour later, as he stared out at the stars, keeping an eye on the trickle of updates scrolling up the monitor every few minutes, the annunciator signaled another visitor. This time, it was Corey -- he looked worse for wear, rumpled and with his short white hair flying away from his scalp. Tired. But he smiled ruefully at Jean-Luc.

"You old devil," he exclaimed as he dropped into a chair. "Thanks for the rescue."

"We've picked up most of your crew -- there's only a handful unaccounted for. What the hell happened?"

"I couldn't even tell you who they are. They wouldn't respond to hails. The first volley shredded our aft pylon -- all of them fired at once. We fought, but I'm the first to admit that I haven't had a lot of battle experience. We were down to rerouting power to shields and phasers were at half, and they were about to take the other pylon when _Venture_ dropped in like an avenging angel. I can guess we'd have been gone if you and LaForge hadn't showed up."

"Then it's a good thing we did. When Geordi gets back we'll get you back to the starbase. We have some repairs to finish, and more to start now. I was checking on your itinerary -- I'll check with Command, but I suspect _Enterprise_ will be tasked with delivering you to the Telfas system, and remaining to stand at alert in case things go awry."

Corey sighed, heavily, and gave him a weary smile that said he should have known better.

"You can lie to me all you want about being just an inspector, but you can't expect me to believe your life would be that boring."

"Old bastard. I should have known your clearance would get you whatever you wanted."

Jean-Luc started to head for the replicator, but sat down again -- Deanna had reached the bridge and her block went down. She felt satisfied and no doubt had successfully brought aboard the remaining crew of the _Mongolia_. The annunciator went off, and he admitted her without delay.

"Your first officer knocked me off my feet," Corey exclaimed, smiling up at her as she went past him to the replicator. "What a magnificent woman."

She came back out of the alcove with a glass and a mug, handing Corey the glass and walking around him to the other chair to sit on his right. "He was standing too close to the lift door when we forced it open."

"I was trying to help," he said.

Deanna raised her eyebrows at him and looked to Jean-Luc. "All hands are evacuated from the _Mongolia_ , and she's being rigged for towing at warp. Repairs on the lower decks are under way. I ended the yellow alert, as Geordi is on his way back with a few more rescued crew -- he ended up in battle again, but was able to beam three officers off the alien vessel."

"Our engineer needs your attention, to get him up to speed on our expectations. That delay was unacceptable."

She nodded. "Will we be assisting Captain Zweller, as his vessel is incapacitated?"

"We will. Briefing at the start of alpha shift."

"Then I will give the order to return to the starbase, have the quartermaster assign quarters to the crew of the _Mongolia_ , and go home to my husband."

The statement rattled Corey a little. He stared at Deanna, then at Jean-Luc.

"Dismissed."

She took her mug with her when she left. Corey smirked. "Are there two of you?"

"More like two sides of me. There are reasons."

"There always are, with you. Well, looks like we'll finally get to work together -- I'm looking forward to it." Corey raised his glass in salute.

"You should go -- the computer will direct you to quarters. I suspect you'll be down the corridor from Captain Janeway, who's visiting us for a while."

A raised eyebrow at that. "Janeway, Picard, and Zweller -- it's like the stars are aligning. I can't wait to meet her. Good night, Jean-Luc."

After Corey left, Jean-Luc allowed himself a smile at the thought of how Corey would react to seeing Janeway with her daughters, and turned back to the monitor. The notification that some minor repairs to relays on deck twenty had been completed popped up. Sickbay was working with injured from the _Mongolia_. 

It was now twenty-two forty-four hours. Time to head for home.


	9. Chapter 9

Yves buried his head in his pillow and moaned. Being evacuated to the designated area for civilians while the ship went into battle had disrupted last night's sleep, and now the headache was back as Papa called out down the hall for them to get up and get dressed for school. 

"Yves," Papa said, and a hand fell on his shoulder. "Yves."

Yves clenched around the covers in a ball. 

"Your mother says you don't feel well."

"I don't," he muttered. 

Papa touched his head, just as Maman would, and reflexively he relaxed -- and Papa's quiet, confident warmth flooded him. He unfolded and rolled on his back. Papa smiled down at him.

"Thanks," he said, smiling a little. "My stomach's settling."

"It's a little intense, when we go into battle, isn't it?"

Yves sat up and scooted around to sit next to Papa on the side of the bed. "It's okay. Part of living on a starship."

Papa put an arm around him and he leaned happily against his father, closing his eyes. He remembered Maman's instructions, to talk more about things even if they were uncomfortable, and thought about bringing up some of the questions he'd had, but decided to relax and leave it for later.

"How's the headache?"

"Better. Guess it was just that usual thing." Being overwhelmed with anxiety left him feeling stuck that way, sometimes, and even Papa could smooth it away. 

"Let's get ready to go, then." Papa waited for him to stand up, and Yves turned to look at him, only to find Papa gazing at him. Now he was thoughtful, concerned, with something on his mind.

"I'm supposed to do a presentation today. Think I'll wear the blue shirt Grandma gave me."

"You asked me the other day about _evhi na ahnia_. Since then, I spoke with your mother, since my own knowledge of such a thing is limited -- she thought a demonstration might be in order."

"A what?" Yves froze with his fingers wrapped around the shirt he'd just pulled out of his closet. 

"Well, she said that you'd been doing some reading on your own, out of curiosity, and that you'd talked to her about it. So asking me must mean you want to know more -- what better way to learn about something than to experience it?"

Yves spun around and stared at Papa -- and saw that Maman had arrived, and stood with her hand resting on Papa's shoulder as he sat on the foot of the bed.

"We're getting some people together tonight in the holodeck," she said.

"But -- " A flood of panic washed through him.

Maman's smile twisted into an angry, scolding version. "Perhaps you should think about it a little more, before you attempt to play pranks on your father."

"You need to get ready for school now. Hurry up, you haven't eaten breakfast." Papa stood, taking Maman's hand as he turned.

Yves watched them leave the room. He yanked his pajama shirt over his head, threw it in the hamper, and pulled on the blue shirt. The alarm and shock and anxiety subsided, and now he could tell both his parents were amused -- Papa's good humor was particularly irritating. 

When he came out and sat down at their new, larger table in the living room, he ignored Cordelia's greeting and Pierre's teasing him about his hair -- he'd neglected to brush it and pieces would stick up randomly -- and grabbed a croissant out of the small plate of them to nibble on. Maman put a glass of juice in front of him and ran her hand over his hair. He sensed her putting forth warmth and love, extending it to him, reassuring him. It was enough to ease away the irritability.

"I hope your science presentation goes well," she said. 

"Thanks, Maman."

\--------------------

Jean-Luc walked into the observation lounge. His officers were not yet there -- it was early, and it gave him a chance to get another cup of coffee, before the meeting. Deanna was taking the children to school and would be there shortly. A glance out the viewports told him they were in a high orbit over the starbase once again. The battered _Mongolia_ was now surrounded by the framework that had lately held the _Enterprise_.

He turned when the door opened -- it surprised him that the counselor had arrived this early. She was usually one of the last to come in for staff meetings.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," he said, bringing his mug to the head of the table. 

"Good morning, sir." She sat down in her usual spot, third chair to his right, and placed a padd in front of her on the table. 

"You scheduled an appointment with the Commander, but we neglected to set one up for me -- do you have a preference? I intend to meet with Captain Zweller this morning, but have some time this afternoon."

Keller didn't smile pleasantly at him, as expected. "Twenty four hundred hours?"

"That would be acceptable. Is something the matter?"

Her blue eyes flicked to his face. "I'm...."

"Concerned. Perhaps confused?"

The smile broke through then. "I thought Commander Troi was the empath."

"I suspect that you are worried about this evaluation. It always seemed to be an uncomfortable challenge, for Commander Davidson. He wasn't shy about telling me that."

Keller's face fell. "It's that obvious."

"You and I have not started out well."

She blushed, and raised her gaze once more to him. "What do you mean?"

"We met when you came aboard, and again three months later, and then we see each other only in the context of meetings. Counselor Troi was my first counselor -- in my prior postings, we had no ship's counselor. She made a point of offering sessions, and I met with her on other matters, asking her assistance in diplomatic endeavors and using her as a consultant. It occurs to me that I have not done the same, with you, mainly because she's now the first officer and able to do the same things, even now. I should apologize, for that. It doesn't help your career, to have no opportunities to practice the full range of duties normally assigned to the ship's counselor."

Keller now became the counselor he had been seeing in meetings, over the past months. Her smile became genuine. "I guess it didn't occur to me that you would allow me to be so assertive. I thought about talking to Deanna about it a few times -- it was -- " She hesitated, clearly lacking the words, or thinking that she wouldn't be able to speak them without censure.

Jean-Luc thought about it, sobering. Davidson had at long last, as he met with him one last time before departing, confessed how difficult it had been for him, when Deanna left the position and he had assumed it. Perhaps it was similar for Keller. And broaching the subject with Deanna herself would be awkward, especially given the counselor's admiration of her.

"Counselor Troi is a hard act to follow, I've been told," Jean-Luc said. "I believe, after having been through counseling with her for so long, I could tell you what she would say to you, in this situation. Comparisons are pointless. Your methods are bound to be different -- you're a different person."

Keller blinked, stared at him, and he wondered if once again he'd missed something. 

"Lieutenant?"

"I'm just trying to understand something," she began, then frowned a little.

"Perhaps talking about it would help."

She laughed at it. Then started to think again, and dropped her gaze. "I feel a bit awkward, talking about this with you."

"I would imagine it would be awkward talking to anyone, if it's got to do with feeling like you aren't doing well enough on the job." He thought about that a little more, remembering when he was an ensign. "Throwing myself into the work got me through similar situations, in the Cretaceous period, back when I was an ensign."

Keller burst into surprised laughter -- a moment later Deanna arrived. She took her usual seat and gave him a questioning look and a fond smile.

"The lieutenant was reminding me about what a difficult patient I am," he told her.

Deanna rolled her eyes, leaning away from him slightly. "If only there were some way to convince you to be willing to make it to those appointments. She would already know how much more difficult you could be when you show up."

"As if I were able to predict every red alert or every meltdown in the classroom. I could schedule around them."

"Or you could reschedule the appointments you miss," Deanna added.

"You mean I should take responsibility? Good God, what a boring thing that would be," he replied.

Deanna shot Keller a look. "It occurs to me that you may find it intimidating, telling Captain Picard to stop neglecting his appointments with you."

"There weren't so many appointments to neglect. But it was suggested to me that I might have difficulty in this placement, with the command staff," Keller said, sounding unsure of herself.

Deanna exchanged a look with Jean-Luc. "Who told you we were difficult?"

"Dr. Pulaski," Jean-Luc exclaimed. "Had to be. Starfleet Medical saw fit to put her in an administrative position, handling the staff orientations for starships."

"Well, that stands to reason. I'm sorry, Keela -- you're at a disadvantage, being caught between two stubborn people who can't get along. I suspect Kate told you our captain is a stubborn old ass, partially because he resisted her at every turn -- he's not really like that any longer, especially with personnel who are not Kate Pulaski."

"I can't believe that she would do that," Keller blurted, incredulous. "Why would she set me up for failure?"

"Why would she let personal feelings interfere in her work, you mean?" Deanna gave the counselor a half-shrug. "I don't believe that she did. She gave you what she believed would be accurate information. I find it interesting, how Command requires so much scrutiny of the two of us, when at times it's obvious how personal feelings influence flag officers in their decisions regarding official business, or in placing officers in the field."

Keller seemed to be thinking about it. "So you expect me to be more assertive in getting you to come to appointments?"

"It's my fault." When Deanna raised her eyebrows at him, he shrugged. "I haven't treated her much like an officer. I haven't had her become involved in anything other than her appointments with crew."

"So it's not been obvious to her that you expect your senior officers to object and speak their opinions, when it's warranted -- when they need to do so to do their duty, whatever that may be. Which is not the way other commanding officers function, after all. Jellico was a perfect example of why unsupportive and by-the-book command styles fail -- he completely ruined morale, for a while."

"All that's been obvious to me is that some of you are quite comfortable with each other," Keller said, flushing again. 

Deanna's expression was most curiously chagrined. Jean-Luc sighed, tilted his head, and waited. His empathic first officer did not disappoint. "She thinks that she sees me being a wife -- teasing you while we're on duty."

He burst out laughing at it -- but caught a glance of Keller's shock, and recovered himself. "Counselor, what you've seen here and there has not been anything other than what she did as an officer, well before the more personal side of our relationship developed. We were friends, for a long time. Perhaps that's unique to us, as officers tend to stay in a position for a few years and move on, whereas some of my staff have not done that."

"It's too bad we don't have video of how Will Riker used to tease you," Deanna said, grinning. "She could have some basis for comparison." The door opened as she spoke, and Mengis arrived, taking the chair on his left.

"This is a first -- you're smiling. Usually you're arguing, when we're on the cusp of a difficult mission," he commented blandly.

"Couples therapy is clearly helping," Deanna said. Jean-Luc wondered just how long she had been that good at deadpan. Then again, she'd been raised by Lwaxana Troi....

Gregory stared at her, then at Jean-Luc -- he started to laugh at them. 

"You have a better poker face when you're actually playing poker, Jean-Luc," Deanna said with a snort.

"There's something else we haven't done in a while," Jean-Luc said. "We should set up a game."

"I want to know why you thought it was funny, the idea of their having couples therapy," Keller asked, eyeing the doctor across the table. Already, she was becoming more assertive. 

Mengis sobered, as he turned to her. "The captain has no reason to seek such help. Ben used to worry that they might, but things that he saw as concerns eventually turned out to be nothing more than.... Deanna?"

She was looking at their doctor with a veiled skepticism that Jean-Luc understood. "He never told us anything that indicated he was worried. I find that odd."

"I think it wasn't that he had a basis for believing that you might want couples therapy. Just that he was afraid you would consider asking for it, at some point."

"The clinical side of me would find that a little daunting, as well," Deanna said. Jean-Luc frowned at her. "Well, you have to admit we're not quite what anyone would think of as ordinary and predictable."

"I do not have to admit any such thing. Mr. Edison," he exclaimed, using the lieutenant commander's disheveled appearance as a distraction. Edison had arrived as he spoke and was coming to sit next to Mengis.

"Sorry, sir, I've just gotten out of a Jeffries tube. I was inspecting repairs on deck twenty-two." The young man's brown hair looked like he'd intended it to stand straight up. 

"You would have had better results with a hair brush than a Jeffries Tube -- or so I'm informed," Jean-Luc exclaimed, pointing at his own head. A muffled snort from Dulles was his reward, as the helmsman arrived and joined the ops manager to the right of the doctor.

"Good morning, Jean-Luc," Corey said as he came in the door. "I hope you don't mind my bringing along my first officer. Commander Ronson, Captain Jean-Luc Picard."

Jean-Luc stood and shook the commander's hand, nodding, noting the officer's short salt-and-pepper hair, his crow's feet, and the rolled shoulders -- the look of a desk bound older officer, who had no regular physical fitness regimen. He introduced his own first officer, and Deanna reached across for a brief handshake. Ronson's brown eyes stayed on her for a moment longer than expected, and then he turned to follow his captain down the table to sit.

Then deLio came in at a full running walk and zoomed around the end of the table to his usual place, the chair between Troi and Keller. "Sir, Admiral Cross would like to speak with you as soon as possible."

"We'll deal with some administrivia while you're gone," Deanna said.

"Corey, this is probably something you should be in on."

Jean-Luc stood, tugged his jacket straight, and turned to go -- Moreno almost collided with him at the door. He dodged and sidestepped out past the engineer and crossed the bridge, waiting at the ready room door for the other captain. Zweller came along at a more leisurely pace.

"You're spry for an old goat," Corey commented as he followed Jean-Luc in.

"We won't make you chase Deanna down any corridors, then," he said, taking his chair and reaching for the blinking light on the console. When it went solid the comm beeped twice. "Admiral, this is Picard. I have Captain Zweller with me."

"Jean-Luc, it's been too long. I was forwarded your last communication, about rescuing the _Mongolia_ 's crew. It sounds like things are worsening In that region."

"We were just starting a staff meeting -- my crew has been analyzing sensor data in an attempt to identify the species that attacked Corey's ship. I reviewed the orders you've given, in regards to Telfas Three."

"So you've given me the ability to order you to step in, and complete the mission, without much explanation of it. I expect your discretion in the matter, Captain."

"Yes, Admiral." Jean-Luc gave Corey a tight smile.

"How many did you lose, Corey?" Cross asked. There was a slight wheeze in his voice.

"Only three. It would have been far worse, had _Enterprise_ and _Venture_ not been so quick to respond to the distress call."

"We've been trying to have good coverage along that border -- it's obvious that there's an increase in activity just outside Federation borders, but this is the first time ships have actually come across, to our knowledge, in that sector. The _Farragut_ was on a diplomatic mission four sectors inside the Alliance, and we lost contact four weeks ago, then received the distress call via automated beacon just last week. Jean-Luc knows quite well the potential this has for blowing up in our faces. Did your first officer detect anything, Jean-Luc?"

Jean-Luc watched Corey's face -- the admirals could be reticent to disclose information to captains, regarding the risks in Alliance territory -- and saw concern, perhaps a little surprise. "She did not. There do not appear to be K'Korll involved. Yet. Her range is considerable, but not infinite. We will be assessing the _Farragut_ crew with that in mind."

"Excellent. Keep me apprised of the situation. The _Circe_ is also in that area, if you need backup. I know that _Venture_ should be on her way to her own assignment. Thank you, Captains. Cross, out."

"I'm wondering how it came to pass that you were assigned to this without at least one other ship to escort you," Jean-Luc said. The new order of things included recommendations to not send an individual ship on missions within a sector of Alliance borders. 

"We should go back to the briefing."

Jean-Luc nodded, and led the way back to the briefing room. He found that he now had a full table -- Geordi and his first officer had joined them, as he'd hoped. 

"Good morning," Jean-Luc exclaimed. "I see you've come back to return my officer?"

"Hell, no, sir," Geordi shot back. "Right, Nat?"

Natalia grinned. "Hi, Captain. You don't have a job for me anymore anyway, so you get to treat me like a guest."

Jean-Luc turned to Corey, who now was quite shocked. "Commander Greenman, and Captain LaForge, were both my officers at one point in the past -- a little shocking, I know, but eventually people do get promoted here."

They retook their seats, and Jean-Luc shoved aside the now-cold mug of coffee -- Deanna took it to the replicator without being asked, and returned with one coffee and one tea, sliding the steaming cup of hot tea on its saucer in front of him.

"Mr. Edison, have you and the doctor come to any conclusions on the sensor data?"

"Our scans collected adequate information to help us identify the ships as being built by the Askaraii, based on the type of engine and the weapons used. However, with the doctor's help, we concluded that the species using these vessels are non-humanoid. They appear to have reptilian and insectoid features."

Jean-Luc glanced at Troi. She knew what he wanted to know. "They aren't at all telepathic. The sense I have is that they are intelligent and cold. Ruthless. Not at all likely to be sympathetic, probably wholly xenophobic. I'd like to talk to the officers Geordi rescued from the alien vessel today. In addition to the likelihood that they may be severely traumatized, there may details they could provide on these aliens."

"So the mission may involve another encounter with these aliens. But our current plan will be to go to Telfas Three, where a mining colony has been established, and pick up the remaining crew of the _Farragut_ , which was destroyed four weeks ago in Alliance space. The two hundred forty-two crew members remaining were able, somehow, beyond all expectations, to make their way to the Telfas system in a vessel of Alliance origin, and are waiting for us to retrieve them and bring them home."

Jean-Luc glanced around at the serious expressions of his officers. He noticed that Natalia was looking down, possibly remembering her own experiences in the Alliance. 

"It sounded very straightforward, until the aliens arrived and started shooting at us," Corey said. "Nothing at all like dealing with the Cardassians. No contact, no warning, just started to tear apart the ship."

The next half an hour of meeting was devoted to technical details -- Moreno had to be asked, but he listed out the remaining repairs in engineering, and the meeting adjourned with orders for Deanna to contact the starbase engineering department and coordinate to bring in repair crews to augment their own, with a departure time of eight hundred hours the following morning in effect regardless. Corey volunteered some of his ops and engineering staff for repair work as well, since they were already aboard, though the _Mongolia_ crew would be left at the starbase for the duration of the mission to give them more space for the _Farragut_ personnel. There were issues with the shields and some of the EPS grid that should be dealt with prior to engaging in any mission. Geordi volunteered a team that would come over once his own repairs were finished. 

Staff left the room, along with Geordi and Nat, until he was alone with Zweller and Ronson. Jean-Luc leaned back and gazed down the table at the two officers. 

"If that's all -- I haven't had breakfast yet, sir," Ronson said.

"Thanks, Jarod." Corey smiled at the commander.

"Call me if you need anything." Ronson strode for the door.

Corey came to sit where Mengis had been. "I'm glad you're here. I'm glad it was you. When you said you'd changed the other day...."

"I know, Corey. I know," he said softly. He was so far from the brash young man he'd been.

"I have a better idea of what they meant about the difficulties in this side of the quadrant, now. I haven't been out this way, near the Alliance -- I heard rumors but thought surely they must have exaggerated."

Jean-Luc made a face. "I think you need to come with me, and sit down for a chat with Captain Janeway, if you want to know how much they downplayed the risks, out here."

Corey blinked again, leaning back. "Not sure I want to, now. But if they keep giving me these missions.... I feel old, Jean-Luc. Looking at you. I got used to the youngsters around us -- got used to feeling like I was surrounded by kids. But you must have some kind of deal with the doctors, getting cosmetic surgery."

"No, just clean living and exercise. Come on, I'll introduce you to Janeway, and my son."


	10. Chapter 10

Jean-Luc fell silent while Corey charmed Kathryn with his older, subtler version of the same old Zweller charm. She caught a look at his face, finally, and sobered -- which then came to Corey's attention.

They sat around the table in his quarters, glasses in hand, drinking their beverages of choice. Jean-Luc's was one of Deanna's favored afternoon drinks -- they'd eaten lunch, talking about old times, Kathryn matching them exploit for shenanigan as the time passed. 

"Something wrong?" Corey asked.

Was there? Jean-Luc thought for a moment, and realized what had shaken him out of the moment. His wife was approaching, and somewhat upset. And then the door opened to admit Deanna. "You forgot again, didn't you?"

"Oh, bloody hell!" He sprang out of the chair and caught himself -- it was not a red alert, after all, just being late for an appointment. 

Deanna met his gaze, and spent some unknown number of seconds with him, thinking about her own interview that morning with the counselor and also a conversation she'd had with Moreno. She didn't interpret any of it -- simply passed him the memories, and turned away to smile at their guests. 

"Hello, again, Commander," Corey exclaimed, a note of pleasure in his greeting. 

"I'll leave you with Deanna -- I have an appointment. I'll be back shortly." He took a step, then grinned and looked down at Corey, still seated across the table. "Be careful what you say, Zweller, she's got a black belt."

"Listen to him," Corey said with a laugh. "She wouldn't hurt me. She's half in love with me already."

Jean-Luc smirked at his friend's bluster and headed out the door. 

The counselor's office had been redecorated in reds -- not nearly so relaxing a color as Davidson's blues and greens, or Deanna's pastels and grays. Keller smiled at him as he came in. Without preamble he took a seat, and tried not to tense up.

"I know I'm late -- I apologize. I was with Captain Zweller -- I haven't seen him in years, we were reminiscing and I lost track of time. Do we need to reschedule?"

"No, sir, I think we'll be fine. Just to let you know, I'm about halfway done with the evaluation -- I'm supposed to interview all senior staff, and still need to schedule two more. And then some of the junior staff.... But of course, you know this well enough."

Jean-Luc smiled at the counselor -- nothing Deanna had showed him of her interview was out of the ordinary, as these evaluations went. The questions had changed a little over time, the approach was the same. Deanna's interview with the counselor had been thorough, but painless, as these things had become.

"You seem quite relaxed," Keller commented, instead of asking a question. 

"I could think about the mission we're about to embark upon, if you'd like me to be tense," he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching.

She nodded, a little bemused as well as amused. "Well, then. How do you feel about Commander Troi?"

That old chestnut had been part of every annual review since the beginning. He was tempted to be flip, but imagined himself sitting on the bridge, and simply answered. "The commander impresses me. She deserves her own command. She's been an exemplary officer, progressing from a totally supportive role as counselor to an indispensable member of my senior staff with whom I would entrust my ship and crew without reservation."

Keller cocked her head, and said what Davidson had each time. "That wasn't what I asked. I wanted to know how you feel."

"Pride."

Keller didn't quite believe this. "Is that all you feel?"

"You're fishing for how I feel for my wife. That's not any of Starfleet's business."

Keller sunk backward in her chair about an inch, and stared. "The commander is your wife."

Apparently, she hadn't been given access to previous reviews, if this was the way she was going to go. "Regulations have nothing to say about the personal lives of officers. Starfleet has no business asking for any such information. I will tell you, Counselor, that I do have nothing but the utmost respect and admiration for my wife, along with a deep and abiding love for her, which is also none of your business, let alone Starfleet's. I trust her more than I will ever trust anyone else. That has nothing to do with duty, or the crew, or the mission, or the ship. If I see her behavior on duty as anything other than I would expect of an officer, I question it, and she knows quite well that I expect the same of her. If at any point I am given a choice between fulfilling my duty as an officer and saving her life, I expect that she will not force me to order her to die, however, I know without a shadow of a doubt that she will do exactly what I would have ordered her to do, without hesitation. Because she knows her duty as well as I. You can question anyone aboard who has been under my command for more than a year, and get the same answer."

He watched her take that in with raised eyebrows and waited for her to question, guess, express disbelief, or any of the other things that he would expect of a counselor. Keller looked at the monitor on her desk and then back at him. It made him wonder, as he'd wondered often about various officers, what had brought her into Starfleet service.

"May I ask you a question, Counselor?"

"Of course," she said automatically. Before she could return to her scripted list of questions, he responded.

"Why did you become a Starfleet counselor? Why not a private practice?"

She pressed her lips together and he expected she would simply redirect him to another question. But after a moment, she nodded, almost to herself, he thought. Making a decision. "I suppose, like so many of us, I wanted to be part of something bigger than myself. Something positive and outward-looking. Something that will continue the development and evolution of human kind."

"What decision did you just make?"

He regretted asking, because it startled her -- not just a second of surprise that she recovered from quickly. Now she had forgotten about the questions she was supposed to ask. Keller studied him once more, her mouth slightly open, and finally shook her head slowly.

"Captain, I have to say that I owe you an apology," she said at last.

"You do," he said, half-asking.

"I should never have assumed anything about you. I should have kept reminding you about appointments, until you came in to talk to me. I feel at a loss for how to proceed, because I don't think I have any real inkling of who you really are, any more."

Jean-Luc sighed, considering that curious summation. "We may have a problem, then. If you cannot complete the evaluation, that may have a deleterious impact on the careers of myself and my first officer. And I will be forced to question whether I made the correct choice of counselor."

Keller sat up straighter, alarmed. "I simply need more information, Captain. Actually, you answered the rest of the questions -- in that one paragraph, in a sense, you responded to all of them. Was that your intent?"

"Not consciously, no. I have no real frustration or anger at this process, Counselor. I have no agenda. This is nothing more than something that happens every year -- I suppose I'm familiar enough with the concerns the admirals have, partially because I share them. And not just about myself, or the commander. No doubt you have your own opinions on the matter of fraternization. So many officers do. I've been scolded by other captains, before. Those feelings that others have about it can influence the thinking of my peers, toward me, and have an impact on my working relationships with them."

The question she had stayed in her eyes -- she seemed unable to find the words, and looked mildly confused. "An example?" he asked. When she nodded, smiling a little, he continued. It wasn't as though it weren't something the counselor should be aware of, he supposed. 

"Mr. Moreno is a concern for me at the moment -- I looked only at his service record, yet other captains have rejected him out of hand, and then I find that he has appeared in the news media thanks to his habit of pursuing and sometimes capturing the attentions of married women, having public affairs with them. I do not care -- I merely want an engineer. It's only a problem if his habits interfere in the performance of his duty. But what is actually having an effect at the moment is his lack of familiarity with shipboard duties and protocols -- his countermanding an order that I gave when we were at red alert could have cost lives. If he does not correct such behavior, rejects our protocols, and there is a similar incident in the future, I will be forced to do something about that. Did you happen to notice how he reacted to my first officer, last night?"

Keller nodded, slowly. Her eyes almost seemed sympathetic.

"Do you think that anyone will question my motives, in the event I am confronted with the need to address the engineer's refusal to obey an order, given the information I have provided? Would you question them?"

She shook her head. "If you would -- when you noticed how he reacted to her, how did you feel?"

Jean-Luc laughed at it, and settled back in the uncomfortable chair, tapping his chin. "Frustrated, that I couldn't warn him -- if he persists he's going to get more than he bargained for. Deanna does not suffer fools, for very long."

At that, she almost laughed -- her smile seemed genuine. Unlike him, Deanna had spent time with the counselor, as she would any new staff member, as it was part of what she felt to be her duty, developing relationships with the crew. It was likely that Keller had a better idea of Deanna than of Jean-Luc. 

"I understand what you mean, about her. But I wanted to know if you felt any jealousy. Possessiveness. Any urge to protect her, or your own interests."

"I did. However, I also continue in the firm conviction that she is her own person. She makes her own decisions. I know that she places the welfare of our children and our relationship before anything, save duty. It's as much who she is as it is who I am. Moreno has as much a chance of getting her attention in the way he wants as he does of my showing any interest in him."

Keller was looking at him now with an expression that he found unsettling, just as he'd found her smile and her manner toward him unsettling previously -- he tried to understand it, now, instead of dismissing it and ignoring those feelings, and then when that didn't help, resorted to a technique Deanna had taught him. Focus on the sensation in his body -- the nervousness had settled into the stomach -- and remember feeling that way before. Which netted him memories of being in counseling all the way back in the year after taking command of the _Enterprise_ , and then he realized that there was an additional level of discomfort -- he felt a sense of wrongness, and realized that he was somehow feeling guilty about this.

"Captain?"

He refocused on Keller, and shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry. I was just trying to understand why I've been so uncomfortable -- you've made me -- I mean, I have been incredibly uncomfortable, with you, since you came aboard. Completely irrational, for that to happen. I have worked with all manner of people for the duration of my career, without such difficulties."

Keller grinned -- obviously that discomfort wasn't news to her. "I'm curious what conclusion you came to. I have to confess that's concerned me as well. I appeared to be the only person you were avoiding, after all."

"You're female, and you're in the role Deanna had when I met her. Davidson was a wholly different person, as a counselor -- there's nothing at all about him that reminded me of her. I'm uncomfortable because if I feel any attraction at all it feels like I'm cheating."

Keller closed her eyes, and blushed, and it finally occurred to him that it might not be just him, feeling that sort of attraction. The way she'd smiled at him had been the biggest trigger of his discomfort. And now he felt a sort of sinking self-flagellating amusement at himself, for even saying a word about it. What a ridiculous situation he'd created for himself.

The lieutenant opened her eyes again, and seemed to be starting to recover herself. "Thank you."

Jean-Luc took a frozen moment to stop wanting to climb over the chair and escape the office. She must have seen it in his face, as now she froze herself.

"Captain, no," she blurted, pink-cheeked again. "That's me as a counselor, being grateful that you brought up something I've fought with addressing -- it's not at all unusual for a counselor, a therapist, to have to address that sort of thing during treatment. But I couldn't even get you in the door, and so there's been no therapeutic relationship at all to start with. I suppose that's actually what's kept you from getting in the door?" 

He laughed, hand to forehead, feeling as exposed as he'd sometimes felt in counseling years before -- unusual, to not be feeling humiliated at the same time, or in pain. He could almost hear Deanna laughing at him for this. Thinking about her got her attention, and in moments she really was laughing, with him, at the situation. He wondered if it might be confusing to Kathryn and Corey, she was manifesting strongly in his awareness and it was possible she could maintain her attention to externals, he supposed, but she'd said something once --

"Sir?"

"Sorry. Just thinking again. I would guess that you are correct, and my obliviousness might better be called avoidance of discomfort of an unconscious sense of guilt due to some association with a former counselor, with whom I later formed a wholly different sort of attachment. So I can compensate for it, now, and let you do what you're supposed to do."

Keller stared. Her expression told him nothing at all -- she seemed to be parsecs away. 

{What the hell are you doing?} Deanna wouldn't interrupt this way, if something hadn't come to her attention with enough disturbance to prompt it. 

Helpless, he simply gave up memories -- the look on Keller's face, the last minutes of conversation, and his realization of the source of his discomfort with Keller. Which, come to think of it, she'd likely sensed from the start. 

{If she starts thinking clinically she can dig out of it, but she's not doing that yet. Ask her professional opinion.}

"So in your professional opinion, do you think we can work together?"

It was the first question that popped into his head, but it apparently was the wrong one to ask. Keller blinked, and her hand flew to her mouth, and then she was laughing helplessly, leaning on her desk as if she might fall out of her chair. Her eyes closed, she seemed to be trying very hard to recover herself, and failing.

At least it gave him a chance to breathe for a few minutes, and think about this. And decided that if she couldn't get to being a counselor on her own, he could stop being a client trying to handle a counselor who couldn't get back to professional.

"Lieutenant," he said softly, trying not to kick her ass too hard.

Finally, she came out of it. And there she went, sinking into humiliation. Unable to look at him. Waiting only seemed to make it worse. Now he thought about Deanna again, as she'd been in those moments he'd seen her so vulnerable as an officer -- when she'd lost her empathic ability for that first time, while the ship was caught in a river of two-dimensional organisms. When she'd been so defeated, after making mistakes that had nearly compromised a mission. Her confessed inadequacies, and wanting to do better than she'd done before. He'd known she would do better, but Keller he had no real idea of, he realized. He'd been ignoring her since she'd been aboard, as much as possible, and should have recognized that and done something about it. Part of that had been how busy they had been, but he should have made time. 

"You have been at a complete disadvantage with a client you don't know yet," he said at last. "Tasked with an evaluation that you find too difficult, having been here only six months and still adjusting to the Starfleet way of life -- fortunately, I've already been taken to task for being difficult and resolved to not make it any harder for counselors than it has to be. I was responding in a way that was not appropriate -- I relaxed too much, trying to make an awkward moment easier. I'm going to guess that if you were to consult with Mr. Davidson, he would be able to relate to feeling as though you want to disappear under your desk?"

She winced. But she also smiled. "You aren't supposed to -- " Another wince, and a sigh. 

"I'm going to contact Command, and tell them we're postponing the evaluation, due to the mission tomorrow. There's simply not enough time for it. You can take the time to process this, and decide if you really want this job."

Most of the emotion in her face drained away. As he had many times over the past years, Jean-Luc fell back on a clear articulation of expectations, to avoid setting anyone up for failure.

"My first officer has high standards, and more awareness of what it takes to do the work you're intending to do. I've had no complaints from anyone. I expect that to continue to be true. The job that I meant was that of my personal counselor, not the position."

Keller nodded, slowly, biting her lower lip. "I'll complete the evaluation, sir. And I really don't think you need any therapy. I'm not just saying that to escape the possibility of providing it. I'm sorry. I hope I haven't caused you any -- any trouble," she said faintly. "If she noticed."

Jean-Luc realized, then, that the counselor had not recognized the nature of Deanna's abilities -- but rather than cause more damage, he thought about Deanna again, the counselor from his distant past, and smiled. "No, not at all. Betazoids have a different sensibility, in such matters."

He left the office, left deck two, rode down in the lift to deck six, and at his door continued onward to pace the corridors -- he only returned to head into quarters when he felt sufficiently calm. He walked in casually.

Deanna was sitting on the couch, with Corey on her left and Kathryn on her right, and all three looked up at him calmly. 

Kathryn was the first to lose the smile. She cast a nervous glance at Deanna.

"Jean-Luc?" Corey said, sounding mildly curious.

He finally looked at Deanna's face, and it all came flooding back, and then some -- he felt his back go rigid as he started to swear profusely in Klingon, and then he was gaining volume, clenching his fists, throwing himself into it with the fervor the language required. Deanna nodded, smiled more broadly, and when he began to slow down she snarled, in her most fishwife-ish Klingon, for him to stop whining like a useless petaQ. It won her another round of cursing, this time in Vulcan -- chosen primarily because it was infernally difficult to do, given there were so few actual curses, and it took more effort to pronounce them correctly. It was enough to slow him down, until he could catch his breath again.

Both their guests had a stunned, frightened look at the end of it, and silence drew out over an eon of minutes. Deanna sighed. "Decades of trying to get you to access feelings, and this is the end result," she said. "What a horrible accent you have. I almost didn't recognize it as Traditional Golic Vulcan. It sounded more like Lowlands."

He almost staggered to the easy chair, fell into it, and scowled.

"Who got the worst of it?"

He glared at her. 

"Okay, I suppose we'll have to appeal this year's evaluation?"

"Postponed it."

"Should I send Dr. Mengis?"

Jean-Luc fumed, now more because he felt sheepish and wished he'd run around the deck, or perhaps gone to the gym.

"Is this typical?" Kathryn asked. 

"Jean-Luc," Deanna said, chiding him gently.

"I broke the damned counselor."

"Oh, no, no," Deanna said softly, before she started to laugh. "No, it takes more than that. You blew her expectations out an airlock. You threw her into that weird place between counselor, officer and a woman trying not to let herself think that way about her commanding officer. Now she's going to need counseling."

"Fucking QI'yaH," he growled.

"I'm going to find somewhere safer, I think," Kathryn said. After a pause, she added, "You don't have weapons in here, I hope."

"You don't have to go. He's working through the fourth stage, now. He should be done swearing."

"Fourth stage of what?" Now Corey found his voice. "Jean-Luc, such language, in front of the ladies."

"The fourth stage of a Picard temper tantrum. Most of the time he stops at stage three, brooding silence. Sometimes stage four involves exercise, but swearing in four languages can happen on occasion."

He sighed, letting her teasing irritate him instead of thinking about the situation. It was easier to set it aside that way. "I suppose stage one is a frown?"

"You always contain the urge to snap at someone by holding your breath, for a few heartbeats. Stage two is persistent scowling and glaring."

"PetaQ," he snapped.

"Unless it's me you're angry at, then you just swear in your half-assed grumpy way until you think I'm not amused by the look on your face."

She'd gotten good at this -- it was almost enough. He fought the upward twitch of his lips. Then she dropped to her knees in front of him on the floor and looked him in the eye, with that devious smirk she'd been wearing lately.

"What happened to warning me about things like this?" he grumbled tiredly.

"You want me to interfere in your relationships with crew?"

"Fucking Betazoid!" he swore, toothlessly, not shouting.

"Not yet. Maybe later."

He started to laugh at it, rubbing his face, leaning back in the chair. Kathryn and Corey joined him, sounding more relieved than anything else. He lost momentum and subsided after a moment.

"What's the final stage of a Picard temper tantrum?" he asked.

"I'm not going to talk about that in front of your friends. Would you care for some tea?"


	11. Chapter 11

Yves left his siblings with Guinan -- while he would have enjoyed playing games on the holodeck with one of his favorite babysitters, he had decided Kathryn was right. He really needed to talk to his father. Trying to do that when everyone was home would mean being interrupted a bunch of times. 

In the corridor on deck six, he slowed down, and stopped outside the Picard quarters. Papa and Maman were home, and the generator was obviously off -- it automatically shut off during the day and turned itself on around dinner time. And he could tell they were kissing, and didn't want to disturb them. 

He turned and walked without thinking, his face feeling hot, and then ran, thinking about where kissing usually ended up and not wanting to be overwhelmed by that again. On deck six the corridor ran continuously in a ring, so he knew eventually he would be farther from their quarters and unable to sense it any longer. As he left the sense of his parents behind, finally, a door opened and Captain Zweller came out. 

"Well, hello, young man. Didn't expect to see you on this side of the ship. Out for a jog?"

"Yes, sir."

The captain looked at him, his expression pleasant, but underneath it Yves could tell he was very curious, very sad, a little awed. Thinking, hard, but that of course was but a murmur he couldn't make out. 

"Has your father told you anything about me?"

"He said you went to the Academy together. Papa has good memories about you." That was true, but more based on what he sensed.

The captain smiled at him happily. "Did he tell you about the times we played jokes on the other cadets, in the Academy dorms?" 

Yves fell in beside the captain as he strolled along the corridor. "He said something about it. Not a lot." 

"I remember this one time, we were coming back from a battle simulation, and walked in our room -- one of our friends had rigged our door, so we were drenched in water the minute we walked through it. That's what started it all. It was like a competition -- we kept one-upping each other. Using transporters, beaming things into each other's rooms, sneaking in obnoxious smelling substances, animals -- at one point I rigged their door with a string of firecrackers that woke up the whole dorm. The thing that ended it was your father's _coup de grâce_ \-- we were all using sensors, transporters, even a phaser rigged with such a low setting that it tingled and tickled instead of stunning them." The captain grinned as he spoke, even gesturing a little with his hands. He stopped walking. "Your father got a big mirror, and put it in the back of their closet, right before the annual Academy mixer -- this was the biggest social event of the year, the instructors and staff and all the cadets would attend in dress uniforms, so we would all be digging in the closet to get them out. When they went to get their uniforms they were surprised by the movement of their reflection in the closet. We heard them screaming all the way down the hall."

Yves was laughing with him, thinking about it, caught up in Captain Zweller's joy at the memory, and didn't hear Maman approach until she called his name. He jumped a little. "Hi, Maman," he said, a little embarrassed. 

"What are you doing over here?" 

Yves knew she meant why wasn't he were he was supposed to be -- he grinned at her. "I was coming home, but I figured I'd get a little exercise -- I'm a little sore from playing velocity with Aunt Kathy. I was on my way back when Captain Zweller found me. He's telling me about the Academy." All true, and he figured she would guess why he'd really not come into their quarters. He was right. She smiled knowingly, nodded a little, and glanced at Captain Zweller.

"If you'd like to spend some time with Yves, school is out. We usually leave the children with a babysitter until the end of alpha shift, but if you'd like to supervise him today I think that would be wonderful. He doesn't have many opportunities to meet friends of his father's."

"Old friends, you mean," the captain said, chortling at her. The man smiled at his mother -- Yves tried not to react to it, but it was always anxiety-provoking when a man felt that attraction to her. He thought it was probably more about the feelings themselves than anything else.

Maman's expression became tinged with that familiar warning, that he was supposed to just let it go, let it be, ignore feelings like this with people who would be uncomfortable if they knew he was aware of them. "You can bring him over for dinner, when it's time. Okay?"

"Okay, Maman. Thanks."

"We're going to have dinner in the captain's private dining room, since we're having more guests than we'll have room for at home. Have a good time. I'm sure your father would warn you not to believe a word he says about him," Maman added, giving the captain her teasing, affectionate grin. 

"I think I can figure it out."

The captain blinked, looked at Maman, and looked down at him with a raised eyebrow. "Oh, you know, it's been a long time, since I've worked with Betazoids. I suppose you must be able to tell when I'm exaggerating?"

"You haven't so far."

"We'll see you at dinner." Maman turned and went the way she'd come.

"Let's go back to my place -- I have some pictures of your father you might like to see."

\--------------------

Jean-Luc almost jumped up from his desk. "What?"

Deanna hesitated. "I didn't think you'd mind him getting to know your friend. He was having a good time with him. Should I go get him, then?"

"No, no. You're right. It's fine." The anxiety of what Corey might tell his son was uncalled for -- Yves was a good kid. 

She sat in the one other chair in his little home office, the one he'd put there just to invite her to sit in it, facing the desk. "That was an impressive display, earlier. You haven't had good shrieking fit in a while."

"Does it really not annoy you at all? You had to have known how she felt."

Deanna closed her eyes and seemed sadly amused by him.

"I know, I know, and it's certainly not anything new. Common as hell, anywhere humans go together. I don't even pay attention any more -- obviously. Except in this case, when I damn well should have!"

"What could have been done differently? Did you want to change protocol, to prevent this sort of thing happening? How am I going to write that up?"

Jean-Luc fumed at the screens along the curved surface of the desk. Repairs were almost completed and they'd be ready to leave in the morning on schedule. The _Venture_ had completed their repairs already. He looked up at Deanna again, to find her looking at him calmly.

"Why didn't you at least suggest to me that I should stop avoiding her?"

A slow blink. "But I did."

He closed his eyes against the urge to swear again. She was right, but he'd been caught up in chasing aliens, talking to aliens, negotiating with aliens, and letting the crew do their duty while facilitating those endeavors. The nudging she'd done had fallen on mostly-deaf ears.

"I don't suppose I could order you to kick my ass, if you see this kind of disaster on the horizon?"

Her head tilted, ever so slightly, and his anxiety went up. She didn't disappoint him. "You're reacting very strongly to this incident. I would have expected some embarrassment and returning to business as usual."

"I was reacting to having her as a counselor. It felt wrong, it felt like -- "

Deanna stood and took a step closer, putting a hand on the edge of the desk. "Are you saying we should have gotten another male counselor?"

"She kept smiling at me, that way. I couldn't stop feeling uncomfortable. And I didn't want to even see why that was so -- and then when I realized that was the root of it I just told her about it."

"You aren't stupid. You trusted her as a counselor, and if she hadn't felt...."

He put his hand over his eyes, again, leaning his elbow on the desk. 

"It's because you feel guilt that you found her attractive? Jean-Luc, you didn't feel this guilt about other attractive women along the way. I thought we were beyond that."

Her hand found the back of his head. She caressed his hair, his neck, and he could tell she was focusing on him through the bond. 

"Am I now incapable of working with other officers?" He raised his head, looking her in the eye. 

"No. Apparently you're still capable of getting stuck in situations like this, however." Deanna slowly settled into his lap and draped her arms on his shoulders. "What do you want to do? Reassign her and get a male counselor? Work through it?"

"I should try, don't you think? I wouldn't want to keep having the problem, with other female officers."

"Okay, there you are. You were making me worry that the captain got lost on the way back from the counselor's office."

"As strange as it sounds, having you in my lap seems to have helped me settle down."

She didn't smile at it. "Maybe I can help you in another way. Maybe we should go to see Keela together, and get a few things straightened out."

"Are you going to sit in my lap while we talk to her?"

That brought a smile. "If you want me to. Something tells me you'll change your mind about that. Do you think you want me to go with you to see her as your officer, or your wife?"

"You said earlier that I'd managed to put her in that 'weird place' between roles. That felt like where I ended up. Maybe that's why I'm so upset -- do you suppose she'll be able to get back out of that place? I had to shift to being the captain to break her out of stasis."

Deanna thought about it a little more. "Perhaps you just need to let her be an officer for a while. Work with her that way and let her recover for a while, while she gets to know you as an officer."

"Is that how you avoided the weird place, when you were a counselor?"

She leaned down to rest her cheek against his forehead. "I didn't avoid the weird place. I meditated, a lot. I never let my guard down in appointments with you. And I've never told you that because of how you're feeling right now, hearing it. She's feeling so inadequate right now that I'm almost afraid she'd try to resign her commission if we tried to approach the subject with her. It's a terrible place to be, feeling that you can't help the client because you've lost your balance. But it's something she'll have to do alone. You can't play hero with her, any more than you would have been able to with me. Despite your penchant for rescuing damsels in distress."

Jean-Luc closed his eyes and enjoyed having her there, her hair in his face and her fingers against his other cheek. "I love you."

"Mmm. Yes. And you smell so nice, today." She giggled quietly at his sudden tension. "Oh, no, I was just admiring... your cologne." Deanna leaned back, appraising him suddenly. "She really didn't stand a chance, at all."

"I did not -- "

"Oh, stop, I'm not an attacking warbird. I'm not accusing you. Serves me right, I suppose, giving you nice things that make you smell as good as you look." Unfortunately she stood, leaving him bereft. 

"Dee?"

"Go back to work. I'll be back at the end of the shift. Everything will be fine."

"As much as it ever is, I suppose. Thank you -- Counselor."

Deanna laughed as she went out the door, but wasn't enticed to stay for more banter.

After she was gone, he sighed, eyeing the monitor displaying the logs of other vessels that had been patrolling the region. They hadn't been particularly revealing. "Computer, display the crew manifest of the _Farragut_.

Names spilled down the screen. He scanned them and smiled. "Well, well. This should be interesting."


	12. Chapter 12

Yves walked with Captain Zweller to the lift, and found deLio already inside. "Hi, deLio."

"Good evening, Yves."

"Are you bringing your family to the dinner?" Yves noticed a spark of interest from the captain. He ignored it.

deLio's thin lips curved -- practically a grin, from a L'norim. "I spoke with them, but zeRia is not comfortable with larger groups of people in smaller spaces."

"That's too bad. Tell zeRia I miss her."

deLio nodded and took a step as the door opened. The captain followed him, glancing at Yves; with a shrug, Yves walked with him to the dining room.

The assembled group included Aunt Kathy and her kids, but also Geordi and Natalia. Grinning, he ran over and gave Natalia a hug.

"Hey, kid, how'd you get six inches taller? What's the good news?"

"I like your hair, Nat."

She grinned and left her arm draped over his shoulders. Her hair was long, but caught up and wound into a knot on the back of her head, sort of like Kathryn's usually was. "That's not the news I was looking for. I meant what you were worried about, in your last message."

"Aw, well. That didn't happen." He'd told her about wanting to use weapons at the tournament.

"I wasn't so optimistic, but I'm sorry to hear it," Nat said. "I see you made a friend."

Captain Zweller had followed him over. "Hello again, Commander."

"This kid will have a ship by the time he's twenty," she told the captain. Then she laughed when Yves blushed and retreated. He headed for Papa, who was in front of the viewports with his back turned, but the doctor caught his eye.

"Hi, Doctor," he said. Mengis smiled, standing there with Mr. Edison.

"No headache today?"

"Nope," Yves said, grinning. He hadn't even thought about it, but it was the first time in a while that he'd gotten through a day without even a slight one. A hand descended on his head. He turned to grin at Maman, who smiled at him as she tucked her arm through his.

"I was wondering if I could convince you to sit with me. I have a seat reserved for a handsome young man."

"You couldn't get Papa to sit with you?" He glanced around. Papa was over talking to Aunt Kathy and holding Nina, somehow, while the little girl tried her best to tear off his ear.

Maman laughed at him, shoving him gently with her shoulder. "I saved him a spot on the other side of me."

Ros ran up to him. "Want to play a game? We have a kadis-kot board."

"You have a little time before we sit down, if you want to," Maman said.

Playing with the younger children was relatively easy, so while he sat cross-legged on the floor with the other kids and took turns slapping pieces on the board, being bumped from either side by the twins, he paid attention to the adults in the room. He grinned at Geordi -- he'd greeted him earlier in the day -- and watched Papa rest a hand briefly on Aunt Kathy's shoulder on the way to say hello to Edison. No one was in uniform, except for Captain Zweller, who was commenting on the civilian garb to Geordi.

The emotions in the room weren't remarkable, or strong, but he practiced sorting through them and guessing who felt what. Captain Zweller had changed -- he'd been happy and calm all afternoon, talking to Yves about the Academy and asking questions about Yves' interests and classes. Now he seemed to be curious, uncertain, a little concerned. 

"Pierre, stop it," Ros complained, pushing Jean-Pierre. 

"Quit pinching," Yves exclaimed without looking. He'd sensed the brief pains from Ros. "You're going to get taken home without dessert, idiot."

"Don't call him an idiot, that's not nice," Cordelia said, plopping a green piece in the middle of the board and blocking all of them.

"Hey," Ros cried.

"If you're going to act like an idiot you'll be called one," Amy said, reaching over to jab a purple piece into the corner.

"You always take his side," Pierre grumbled.

"It's not a side -- it's true. Only an idiot thinks he's going to get away with pinching a guest when Maman's around. You're going to get it if you don't stop it."

A shadow fell over the board, and all of them craned upward to see Papa leaning in. He scowled, just enough to get the point across, and thumped Pierre on the head with his thumb before turning away to carry his beer glass over to the viewports, where the other captains and Maman were standing and talking.

"Told you," Amy muttered. 

"That was Uncle Luc, not your mom," Ros said. 

Yves glanced at her. "Maman's an empath. And she tells Papa things all the time, without speaking. You don't get away with stuff if they're around."

"Play," Cordelia said imperiously.

Yves sighed and put a piece on the board. "Kadis-kot."

"Why didn't your dad come?" Amy asked Ros while they reclaimed all the pieces off the board for another game. 

"He's charting this great big nebula while we're gone." Ros sighed. "You know how it is. We talked to him this morning."

"You don't worry about him when you're gone?" 

Yves glanced at Amy. She had a frown and felt a hint of what Yves remembered feeling, when Papa had left the ship last year for weeks -- fear, worry, concern. Of course she'd felt the same. So did the twins, a bit. 

"Should I worry?" Ros started to, just a twinge, just a flicker.

"He's charting a nebula, not riding around in a shuttle in the Delta Quadrant," Yves said. "He's fine."

"But -- " Amy began.

" -- fine," Yves cut in, twitching his leg to nudge his sister's arm with his knee. Cordie shoved herself back between them and stuck one of her pieces in place on the board.

Amy pouted. A little too hard -- she was glaring at him. Rather than let her accelerate to a full NoNo, he stared, and tried to do what he'd done the other day at school. The mental nudge did the trick. Amy's head twitched, and she slapped a piece on the board with a sigh.

A nudge got his attention -- he looked over his shoulder. Maman was looking at him from across the room, with a proud smile. He turned back to watch Pierre put a blue piece on the board.

\--------------------

Jean-Luc groaned. Why did mornings have to be this way? "Pierre! Get dressed!"

"Coming!" came the response, all the way from his room. Just like four minutes ago.

Yves rolled his eyes and went in to find his brother and hopefully force a shirt over his head. Amy hummed and chewed half of a muffin that she'd shared with Cordelia. A little too casual -- she was doing her own version of bragging, adopting a superior air while she did exactly what she should be doing.

"You have a meeting with Mr. Moreno scheduled this morning before the briefing," Deanna said, coming out of the bedroom. She passed Jean-Luc a padd and patted his chest on the way by, as she headed for the exit. "He'll be waiting in your ready room."

"Aye aye, Captain," Jean-Luc replied sarcastically, shaking his head.

"I heard you tell me to do it, yesterday afternoon. If anyone asks." The door closed behind her. {Don't want to be accused of not stepping in when I sense a catastrophe approaching, after all.}

"JEAN-PIERRE! GET OUT HERE!" The bellowing made the girls flinch as if about to dive under the table, but it got results -- Pierre appeared, half into his shirt, and Yves shot Jean-Luc a grateful expression as he returned and darted over for his padd, then jogged for the door. Jean-Luc lunged menacingly at the younger children and it was enough to get everyone scurrying after their brother.

He reached the bridge late -- the engineer already stood at the ready room door. "Mr. Moreno," he greeted the man as he kept his pace casual and led the way in. "Coffee?"

"Black, with sugar," the man said, following him. "Thank you, sir."

With mugs in hand, they faced each other across the desk. "How are you settling in, Mr. Moreno?"

The man actually winced, as if in pain. He stared at the glossy surface of the desk. "Permission to speak frankly, sir?"

Well, Deanna had said catastrophe. Her assessment appeared to be correct. "Granted."

"I don't know if it's me, or if there's something else that I'm missing. Your first officer did say this would be different -- I have to say I had no idea how much."

Jean-Luc sipped, thinking about how to respond to this. "Is this related to the red alert, or is this a different matter?"

"I've been studying regulations specific to starship operations. I spoke with Commander Troi, about your ship's protocols, your standing orders regarding responses in a crisis. I think I can adapt to those. I talked to her about... the engineering staff."

"I see. It sounds as though you're making progress on that front."

"I wanted to talk to you, about what happened at the dinner the other night."

Jean-Luc set aside his coffee -- it was his third cup, anyway. He waited for Moreno to continue.

"She didn't have to -- " Moreno frowned and kept staring at the desk. "You could have talked to me, instead of putting on a show."

"Oh," he replied. So the man was sharper than he appeared. "Well -- there's a reason Deanna was -- she wasn't really putting on a show, as you put it. It's not really such unusual behavior for her. Not in the company of senior staff. It's certainly not her habit to do such things around the ship, mind you, but it wasn't quite what you think."

Moreno stared at him, now. In surprise. "You sound... different."

"It's the difference between Captain Picard, and Deanna's husband. I was responding to you that way because you're talking about her behavior as my wife. That's necessary. You may remember the mention of an evaluation, at the dinner. That evaluation is annual -- we've been together for years, and we've become quite explicit about the divide between the personal and the professional. We have to be careful about boundaries. However, at times, she responds to what she senses -- she's an empath, as most half-human, half-Betazoids are. When someone responds to her with strong attraction it can be... interesting."

Moreno had a most uncomfortable smile. "I see." His expression changed again, rapidly, to dismay. "I mean -- I hope you don't believe that I would have behaved inappropriately, sir," he stammered. "I know what's been said about me. In the news."

"I'm not certain to what you're referring, since I don't tend to pay attention to the media -- I really don't have the time for it. And Starfleet does not interfere in the personal lives of its officers. Unless, of course, the personal interferes in duty. Which is, as I was explaining, why we're careful to make a clear delineation between the two. On the _Enterprise_ I tend to cultivate friendships with my senior staff. It's one of the reasons the boundaries were blurred, at the dinner."

Moreno sat back in the chair, sipped his coffee, and nodded. "So, since I wasn't yet a friend... talking about things personal with me is verboten?"

"If I had come to you telling you not to bother her how would you have taken it? No starship captain should do that. Your relationship outside the day's duty shift with any member of the crew is beyond my purview. It doesn't matter if I actually do it as a spouse -- it would feel to anyone who doesn't know me as anything but the captain as if it were coming from the captain."

"Okay. That makes sense. And if she shuts me down, things get awkward on duty, with her. Possibly. But you'd rather not take the chance."

Jean-Luc sighed and raised his mug. "If only everyone understood this so well."

"But now that we're having the discussion?"

"You started it."

"I guess you have a reason to lock yourself into this imaginary dichotomy?"

Jean-Luc plucked the framed picture from the top left corner of the desk, flipped it around, and placed it in front of the engineer. "Five reasons. Deanna, Yves, Amy, Cordelia, and Jean-Pierre. There have been accusations. A court-martial. All manner of rumors, and sometimes the bad assumptions of officers who don't know us cause problems. On top of that, the longer we're together, the harder it is to keep everything separate. She's been a good friend, in addition to all the other roles she's had while aboard."

"So why not retire and go live in peace, without the drama?"

Jean-Luc smiled ruefully. "I went to the Academy at 16, Mr. Moreno, and this has been my life since -- more than sixty years of living on ships, serving the Federation in battle, in peace, in exploration. My wife will make an excellent captain, at some point. Perhaps you would be able to imagine life without a starship, or other officers. But I expect I will be an admiral soon, and it will not be an easy transition to Earth, for us. This is what we've done for most of our lives. It would be like deciding to not be human any more."

Moreno seemed relaxed, now. He nodded, still thinking about it. 

"So why, after all this time, did you decide to find a posting on a starship, Mr. Moreno?"

"I just thought it sounded like a fine adventure. I make the ships happen, I never get to ride in them. Or meet the people who use them. That confrontation yesterday, the battle, it happens a lot?"

A beep from the desks told him the shift had started. "That would depend on your definition of the term. If you'd like numbers, we can adjourn to the staff meeting?"

They crossed the bridge, arriving in the observation lounge simultaneously with Deanna. Jean-Luc shot a glance at the engineer and asked, "How many red alerts have we had in the past year?"

Deanna went to the opposite end of the room and asked the replicator for tea. "Which year? Betazed, Earth, Vulcan -- "

"Starfleet." 

"So Earth -- three hundred sixty five days, fifty-two weeks.... That would be thirty-five red alerts. Four fatalities, one hundred forty-two injuries." Deanna set a cup in front of him as he took his place at the head of the table. "It would be two fewer injuries, if you would stay on board, already. Sir."

"Thank you, Mother," Jean-Luc said diffidently, taking a sip of Earl Grey and glancing at Moreno. He'd taken a seat three chairs down and still had the mug of coffee in hand.

"I would call you sexist, if you hadn't accused previous first officers of being mother hens." Deanna turned as deLio came in, closely followed by Geordi and Corey. "Good morning, Captains. Good morning, Commander deLio."

"Good morning, Commander Troi," the L'norim said. He took his usual seat at Deanna's left hand.

"Mr. deLio, you've been with us since this ship was launched," Jean-Luc said. "I was thinking about all the missions and the times you've successfully defended away teams. It occurs to me to wonder -- if you were faced with a choice, you could only save myself or the commander, who would you choose?"

deLio stared at him, and Deanna sat down and completely ignored him. The security chief then looked around the room. There wasn't much help for him in determining whether it was a joke -- Moreno looked shocked, and Geordi was shaking his head at a padd at the other end of the table. Corey's expression was unreadable.

"I would save her, of course," deLio responded at last.

Deanna muttered something in Betazoid, which of course the translator mangled. Jean-Luc caught a few words and decided he didn't want to understand the others. 

"You would sacrifice yourself for any member of your crew," deLio said. "Therefore you would want me to save her, or any other crew member present."

"I agree," Geordi said, tossing down the padd. "He's thrown himself in front of all kinds of things -- he was fighting off Klingons on the Homeworld just being Worf's cha'DIch. That wasn't even duty, just friendship. He's saved my life."

Mengis arrived as Geordi spoke, glanced around at those present, and took his seat. "I see we're orienting the new staff already. Should I discuss the ongoing battle to keep people healthy in spite of their throwing themselves into harm's way protecting each other?"

Jean-Luc gave him a stern look, and he sat down without further comment. Edison and the counselor arrived as well. When Dulles showed up, Jean-Luc started without preamble.

"The repairs are completed?"

"Aye, sir," Edison replied, "all systems operating at or exceeding specifications."

"So we will depart following the meeting for the Telfas system. Captain Zweller will remain aboard, while his crew remains at the starbase. Captain LaForge has been asked to support this mission, by Admiral Adira, so the _Venture_ will remain with us."

Jean-Luc could tell, from the shift in the expressions of his crew, that the implicit message of the alteration of orders of a sister ship and the continued presence of Captain Zweller had not gone unrecognized. Serious matters beyond the rescue of crew were at hand. The counselor had noticed the shift in the atmosphere of the room. Moreno didn't seem to recognize a change.

Deanna put down her tea cup. "All departments will return to normal operations. A level three diagnostic will be performed prior to departure. Mr. Edison, have the quartermaster see to accommodations for rescued personnel."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm postponing the remainder of this month's physicals," Mengis said. "We'll have everything at the ready -- if things go per the usual, we'll need to be."

Jean-Luc kept an eye on Moreno while Deanna checked in with him for engineering status. He appeared to have been reassured by the chat before the meeting. Jean-Luc kept his attention on the table, or on the other officers, and thought about his suspicions -- it certainly had been looking more likely, though he disliked the notion, that the timing of this was not coincidental. 

{I need to talk to you after the meeting.}

The first officer instructed the counselor to be at the ready, as it was likely the rescued personnel would need intervention -- Jean-Luc wondered if anyone else heard the slight catch in her voice as she informed Keller that Davidson's logs might be useful for her to review, if any of them showed signs of telepathic incursions. Keller seemed to understand; she frowned a little even while she acknowledged and thanked Deanna for the suggestion. And then a moment of silence.

"If there is nothing further?" Jean-Luc said, and when nothing was said, he dismissed them. Deanna took his empty cup along with hers to the replicator. Rather than departing along with everyone else, Moreno hesitated after standing and took the long way around, approaching the head of the table instead of the door. 

"Thank you, sir," he said, briefly leaning on the chair he stood behind.

Jean-Luc gave him a thin smile and nodded, curtly, hoping that would be sufficient. Moreno reversed course with a nod and left the room. 

Deanna returned to her chair on his left hand. "The conversation went well?"

"Better than I expected. Was he clueless about the change in orders as he seemed?"

She nodded, looking concerned. "I think your suspicion may be correct."

"You haven't been picking up my thoughts on the matter, have you?"

"No. But I do remember how you felt after you spoke to the admiral, and after his conversation with me and how you fared with him this morning, I have to concur that there is more to him than meets the eye."

Jean-Luc sighed heavily. "Then I will ask you something that I nearly asked the admiral, when Moreno was recommended. Does it seem strange to you that an engineer with no shipboard experience whatsoever would be assigned to the flagship of the Federation, given our current series of assignments?"

"Stranger yet, that after the dinner the other day, he has shown no emotional reaction to me, despite my spending time in his presence on several occasions. I would have expected more of the same, if it were really a visceral sort of attraction -- I would have expected him to be frustrated and trying to distract himself, rather than a lack of sexual attraction. I'm guessing that his behavior was a ruse. It isn't difficult to imagine another person to generate feelings that coincide with what one wishes to project, with a little practice."

"And then he confronts me this morning to take me to task for not simply addressing it with him, to get him to leave you alone. The new JAG must think we've gotten complacent and decided to up the ante." Then he thought about it a little longer, and frowned. "You don't suppose Keller is a plant as well?"

"She wasn't recommended to us. We asked for her. Although I suppose it would be easy enough to give her orders after the fact, wouldn't it?" Deanna smirked and reached across the corner of the table to pat his arm. "I think I can get a better idea easily enough. We should revisit the idea from yesterday, of going to see her together."

"As officers?"

"To start with." Deanna rose with him, and preceded him toward the door. "I'll go now, to talk in more detail with her about what she's likely to be facing with the recovered officers. You can come along in a bit, after you've gotten us under way."

He went to his chair on the bridge, and she left in the lift -- he gave the order, once verifying that Geordi had returned to his vessel, and the _Mongolia_ crew had disembarked. After they had been under way for ten minutes at warp six with the _Venture_ paralleling their course and matching their speed, he gave the bridge over to Mr. Edison and headed for deck two.


	13. Chapter 13

Yves arrived in sickbay holding his arm. Lieutenant Soares helped him up on a bed. "What happened?"

"I fell. We were doing laps in the gym, on the track."

Dr. Mengis came out from his office and watched the nurse working on the sprain. "How's the head, today?"

"Great. No headache."

"Is it that you're not having difficulties shielding yourself, or that there's not much to shield from?"

He had to think about it. "Maybe I'm getting better. I don't think anything else changed." 

"That's good to hear. Your mother wanted me to show you something. Got a moment?"

The doctor took him back to his office, when the nurse was done, and took a small device out of a desk drawer. Yves eyed the sensors the doctor held up. "What is it?"

"It's a biofeedback device, from Betazed. It helps you learn how to regulate the breath and heartbeat, and focus your thoughts. I ordered it at her request for you and your siblings. If you'd like I can show you how to use it, and drop it by your quarters later."

"Okay." It sounded better than chasing his classmates around a track. 

It was like playing a game, actually, since part of the process included a 3D projection where balls moved into goals or balloons grew or shrank, depending on what mental effort he made. When the doctor was satisfied he understood it, he left sickbay. 

He almost made it to the gym but met his class returning to the classroom, and joined them in backtracking. They left the lift on deck ten and there was Captain Zweller, strolling down the corridor in the opposite direction. 

Yves smiled, but the captain didn't appear to be paying attention -- he strolled along, hands behind his back, deep in thought as he went by. Something troubled him, which became more obvious the closer he got. There were hints of anger, and underneath it all, fear. 

Yves followed his teacher into the classroom and returned to his desk with the beginnings of a headache. He sighed, and tried to do what he'd done with the biofeedback machine. It surprised him when it worked. Pulling up the day's math assignment on his padd, he went to work on solving for a few variables.

\-----------------------

The door to the counselor's office slid open. Jean-Luc stepped in, and stopped when he saw Deanna, as if he hadn't meant to impose.

"Sir," Keller exclaimed, rising to her feet. She glanced at Deanna and back. "Actually, I'd like to speak to both of you for a moment, if you wouldn't mind."

"All right." He settled in the chair on Deanna's left, smiled at her, and intentionally relaxed, crossing his legs. 

Keller folded her hands on her desk, leaning forward, and took a few seconds to compose herself. "I'm still working on the evaluation, of course, though I intend to take full advantage of the extra time to develop a thorough understanding of things before I finish. Which is what I'm hoping to do here. Commander, did the captain tell you... what happened yesterday?"

"No." Deanna's expression didn't alter -- she looked quite the officer, didn't even glance at him. "He told his wife."

It floored Keller. Jean-Luc suspected, from the open-mouthed shock, that she'd forgotten about whatever she'd wanted to ask, for the moment. 

"Since you're the counselor, you're the only person on the ship who has the ability to talk to us about both sides," Deanna said. "Because you'll keep our personal information confidential. True?"

"Of course," Keller exclaimed, sounding a little outraged by the hint that it might not be so. But of course, it was Deanna's way of getting the counselor back on track. Jean-Luc liked the way this was going much better already.

"The captain doesn't talk to the crew about his wife, or to his wife about the crew. But he can be frustrated enough to vent a little, now and then. He was apparently very frustrated yesterday, with how his visit with you went. Mostly blaming himself for it."

Now she was trying to train Keller how to hear the differences between their professional and personal sides, but the counselor was back to silently sorting through what was said. "Can we please just have a conversation without all the third person?" she asked finally.

"That was how we got into trouble yesterday. I got lost. The client role, the captain, the husband, all tried to get in the way." Jean-Luc tried to stop stiffening up at the memory. 

Deanna turned her head then, and gave her head a shake as she gave him a puckish smile. "You forgot to mention the embarrassed man who told his counselor he thinks she's attractive. You know, the one who's been sublimated under the captain for months, making him forget how to deal with new senior staff?"

"That's Mrs. Picard," he exclaimed, sure he must be turning a little pink at that. "She's quite merciless."

"Part of the problem, Keela, is that Command wants us to be officers first. But that isn't the way starships really work. Officers are always people. Some people are better at being professionals than others. They want this evaluation every year to prove that two officers in an intimate relationship will fail, not to monitor our efficacy, or remind us."

Keller frowned, now. "I understood that you've been married for more than a decade. Surely if there were something wrong...."

Deanna waited for a moment, and glanced at him. "Captain?"

So she wanted the captain to explain it. That wasn't so difficult. "The problem, Lieutenant, is that officers who are close friends are more likely to have blind spots. Or to turn an intentionally blind eye when standards start to slip. Even Command has been known to justify broken regs, once in a while, in certain circumstances. I've disobeyed orders and broken the Prime Directive. Because this is space -- there are extraordinary circumstances that we face, out here. You can probably quote statistics that tell you isolated officers who have no friends, no intimate relationships, fare poorly as time passes. You can probably quote regulations that specifically prohibit interference in the personal lives of officers, save when they allow personal considerations to interfere in their duties. What neither you nor I can do is to describe the happy medium. To recite a magic formula, that would allow a starship captain to be happy and healthy while serving a long tenure in command. It isn't possible, without balancing their lives with relationships that compromise that infamous distancing they're supposed to manage. Meanwhile, back at Command, admirals come and go, bringing opinions on my relationship with my first officer into play. Their personal feelings change how these evaluations are administered. Sometimes they can't believe it's possible at all, and show up for a visit."

"And sometimes, they sneak someone aboard, to observe without our knowledge," Deanna added, as if simply imparting a bit more information. Casual. Jean-Luc tried to keep his slight anxiety at bay.

Keller inhaled deeply, looking distressed. Her eyes darted from him to Deanna and back. "Can you tell me how you -- both of you -- manage it? Without resorting to all the double talk?"

"It's not going to help you with the evaluation. It may confuse it," Deanna said.

"It's not going to confuse things any more than they already are."

"Her career goals and her principles line up with mine," Jean-Luc said. "In reality, I am in command and make final decisions. But she's worked with me as a subordinate so long that her decisions often match mine."

"I've seen you argue in staff meetings."

"We do. Sometimes it's almost rhetorical." Deanna smiled at the counselor. "I throw questions and he answers, and there can be no accusation that his decisions were not considered."

Keller nodded. "I'm thinking now about some of the ways you've interacted -- one confusing thing that's consistent is that you hardly look at each other. It was a little concerning to me for a while. Dr. Mengis said that there is a reason, but didn't specify."

Jean-Luc looked at Deanna directly, and she did the same, and after a few moments he realized that she had reached over to take his hand, where it sat on the arm of his chair. Dee blinked and turned to the counselor but didn't let go of his fingers. He closed his eyes, briefly, and looked at Keller again. The woman looked flustered, again.

"I see," she said faintly. 

"My husband is a private man," Deanna said. A backhanded warning, Jean-Luc thought -- Keller heard that, too.

{I don't think she is a plant, Jean. She is genuinely trying to understand, wanting to do well on the evaluation. No response when I mentioned sneaking a spy aboard, other than a little sympathy on our behalf.}

He sighed in relief. Keller was looking at him, thoughtful rather than confused now. Whether Command had sent her or not, helping her understand them better would only help matters. "You have to understand that this was not something I anticipated. When I realized how I felt about her, I truly believed it would never result in anything -- I have always, from the very first, refused to allow love to impact my career. I walked away from it every time. But she was my officer for a long time, before I allowed myself to feel anything other than friendship for her."

"She was your counselor," Keller said. "You were comfortable with her in that role. No doubt that also played a part in reassuring you that you could continue to work together."

Deanna laughed at that, shaking her head. "If I put myself in a counselor's frame of mind, look at him that way, he tenses up and starts turning into a statue. He hates therapy. He used to be incredibly sensitive to anything that might reveal his feelings, and avoided it. Look at him now, listening to me describe it. He only tolerated it with grace after he started to view me as a friend."

Jean-Luc scowled, this time to hide surprise as well as his discomfort and frustration. She'd never told him that.

"He lets himself be himself only when he's comfortable with you. The counselor label doesn't help." Deanna's fingers intertwined with his. "He's never going to settle down for an actual session until he knows you as an officer."

It appeared that was what Keller needed to hear. She relaxed, clearly reassured, and smiled at him now in a polite but composed manner. "Am I supposed to be like this, then? Practice separating my roles? Be an officer first and then also be your counselor? It's usually recommended to be the counselor, and focus less on other roles. I've spoken with other counselors, and there's the usual class at the Academy specifically for mental health professionals that helps us understand how to manage dual relationships that inevitably develop aboard a starship. Actually -- "

When Keller didn't continue, Deanna filled it in. "They use a lot of my work in the class." Deanna squeezed his hand, sending a little apology through their bond. "Probably talked about things that you decided must have been about Captain Picard?"

Jean-Luc really wanted to swear at her -- he held his breath, remembered that he'd just hit stage one, and started to laugh breathlessly.

"Oh, dear," Deanna said wistfully. "I've ruined it forever, haven't I? Now instead of swearing at me, you're just going to laugh about it."

"I'm trying not to scare the counselor."

"Well, thank you for that. At least she doesn't have to learn about your temper the hard way." 

Keller reminded him now of Davidson, the expression of incredulousness that fairly shouted 'what have I gotten into' and just a slight hint of amusement. She was quite pretty, really. Her blue eyes reminded him of Beverly....

It connected, finally. He almost reacted overtly, but went still and sober, doing as he had done in so many crisis situations over the years, shoving an untoward reaction out of his way. When he looked at Deanna, she was already looking at him, nodding, understanding.

"Is there a specific plan, in how you go about this great separation of roles?" Keller asked. She appeared to have noticed a shift of mood, but had returned to the original line of discussion, choosing not to address their brief tangent.

"It's partially context. Part location -- on the bridge, in official meetings, or addressing officers in engineering, let's say, we would be officers first, friends second, very rarely spouses. The looser social interactions would be reserved for holodecks, Ten Forward, or our quarters. Or being on leave off the ship entirely. But we can turn into officers at any time -- I know when I'm issued an order."

"It's a little like what I did in our meeting yesterday. Invoking rank, to move you from feeling stuck into being an officer." And then a different sort of realization struck him. "But -- well, that wasn't fair of me, either, was it? Because if they are training counselors to ground themselves in counseling, and not in the officer training, all that accomplished was to communicate that you were failing. My goodness, I've been quite an ass," he said, turning to Deanna.

"An ignorant ass," she amended. "Why would you be aware of what they're doing in the Medical division, so far as training?"

"So who are you, right now?" Keller asked. "When you start teasing him?"

Deanna rolled her eyes and inclined her head toward him, so assuming she meant for him to answer, he said, "That would be my friend. Her teasing is different when it's my wife. It's slightly different still, when it's my officer, who has a slightly different style."

Keller winced. "Am I going to be able to do this without ten years of service?"

"I think so," Deanna said. "I think you're doing fine, Keela. You've had him in your office twice in two days -- not something I managed to do in two years."

Keller wrinkled her nose, amused but tempering it with doubt that showed in her eyes. "Somehow I think you had a lot to do with his being here today."

That earned her a patented Troi frown, semi-scolding, semi-bemused -- more counselor than anything else. Deanna looked at Jean-Luc. "You told me you realized you were avoiding her, and why." She glanced at Keller. "He would have come regardless -- he doesn't shy away, when it comes to duty, and he does know you're essential to his senior staff."

"All right," Keller said with a sigh. "So I need to be an officer, and get to know you better as an officer -- where would you like me to start, Captain?"

"You haven't been on the bridge very often. That would be a start."

Keller couldn't seem to look at them any more.

"You didn't talk to her, the few times she did sit with us on the bridge," Deanna said softly.

"Well, you're going to kick my ass if I keep misbehaving, aren't you?"

Deanna smirked. "That was an order, believe it or not. Though not precisely how he would phrase it, if it were coming from the captain. We've been sitting between, as you requested, mostly setting aside rank. But that was Captain Picard the friend, speaking to his first officer who is also his friend, jokingly requesting a little help in his self-deprecating way because he's embarrassed. He doesn't get caught neglecting duty much any more."

"I'll think about that. So... what would it have sounded like, if it had been the captain to an officer who is not so close a friend?"

"I expect my first officer to be aware of morale, and to alert me to any concerns she has, especially if I do not seem to be aware there is a problem."

Keller's chin came up. "What if you were talking to your wife?"

"That's not something to tell my wife -- not as an order. I might tell her that my age-old preference for redheads is causing me problems. Her response might be anything from a frown to -- ow."

Deanna's fingers made a light sweep up the back of his head, not really warranting a verbal response, but he made it anyway. She followed it with a punch on the shoulder, and then crossed her arms and smirked at him.

"This is what I get, marrying a martial artist," he said, twitching a thumb to indicate Deanna. "You should go to her classes, if you haven't already. Her students call her the Flying Betazoid."

"Maybe I will." Keller now seemed to have relaxed -- her warm smile now returned, free of tension or uncertainty, and he was happy to note that it didn't result in the jolt of anxiety he'd had before. 

"I'm going to engineering. The captain expects me to make sure our new engineer is settling in without issues," Deanna announced, rising and sidling past his chair, briefly draping a hand on his head.

"I'll see you later, then. Perhaps?"

"That depends on when we get to Telfas." The door shut behind her a moment later. 

He noticed the change in Keller's face, at the mention of the engineer, and once Deanna had gone he waited for her to say something. Keller countered by gazing back at him without a word.

"What do you think of Mr. Moreno?"

"I think he's a strange man." She closed her mouth then, though he had the sense she had been about to say more.

"I've been in Starfleet longer than anyone aboard, and I have never seen a chief engineer sent straight to the top, without any starship experience whatsoever. More curious, the fleet admiral recommended him to me."

Keller pursed her red lips, and thought about it. "You believe there's something going on."

"Strange in what way?"

Another hesitation. "That sounds like an order."

He nodded, giving her a slight smile.

"After the staff dinner, he came to my quarters. He said he wanted to understand something about you -- he seemed very interested in your relationship with Deanna. I was really put off by it, something about him made me extremely uncomfortable, especially since Deanna has been nothing but professional, helpful and welcoming, and... well. Maybe you haven't been as attentive, but you haven't been unpleasant. I could even say you've been respectful if I look at it through the counselor's lens, considering your discomfort and the possibility of it interfering in our professional relationship. I didn't tell him much and claimed relative innocence because I haven't been aboard that long."

"What do you think he was trying to do?"

Keller blinked in surprise. "I guess... I would say he was trying to find out if I knew either of you had behaved inappropriately in the line of duty. He didn't come out and say that. Something about the questions he asked." She blinked again. "This doesn't surprise you."

"Continue to observe, assess, and evaluate us. I would like to have your honest opinions, whether they reflect positively on us or not. And I would like to hear it if any of the crew have issues with Moreno. I will not allow him to disrupt the effective operation of this crew, and I expect you will inform me at once if you have the suspicion that he has done so."

Keller regarded him seriously. "Yes, sir."

Jean-Luc stood and turned to go, but hesitated and glanced back at her. "I don't care what the counselor says. You're doing fine."

She gaped. "Thank you... Captain?"

She'd understood their roles as he'd intended. "See? You're fine." 

"Captain?"

He turned back again, raised an eyebrow at her.

"Deanna said that sometimes they sneak someone aboard to observe you. She meant Moreno. Didn't she?"

He gave her a calm, even stare. But he said, without inflection, "We didn't say anything about any such thing. Even if there were an observer aboard, we're not about to let it change our behavior -- because I really have nothing to hide, nor would either of us allow such knowledge to keep us from doing our duty. I expect the same of everyone aboard. I believe I've made my concerns about Mr. Moreno clear?"

"Yes, sir." But now she had an expression of distaste that reassured him again that she would indeed be fine.

Jean-Luc nodded and left her office. In the lift, he sighed. "Bridge."


	14. Chapter 14

The red alert klaxons went off as Kathryn walked them toward home. She of course switched directions and asked the nearest lift to take them to deck ten, to the area designated for civilians during alerts. 

The huge room full of tables and chairs was sometimes used for larger gatherings. The fifty four civilians, including all the spouses and children of officers, were gathered in groups of four to ten people around the room. No one appeared too upset, but Yves knew better. In fact, the parents in the room were afraid. Some of the older kids worried but nothing like the adults' fear. And then the pressure of the anxiety of the crew crowded in.

He sat at a table and watched Kathryn deal cards to his siblings and Rosalind, while Nina played with a small electronic game that involved matching patterns of colored blinking lights. 'Go Fish' wasn't his favorite but it was easy enough for the twins and mindless enough to keep him apparently busy while he paid more attention and tried to keep his breathing slow.

When he felt the alien presence, he went still, dropping his cards haphazardly on the table. 

"Yves?" Kathryn asked softly. 

Then Guinan was there, standing over him, a hand on his shoulder. "You all right?"

"We need to leave. We need to go. There's something coming," he whispered. 

Guinan and Kathryn exchanged a long stare, and then Kathryn got up. "Guinan's going to sit with you and play cards."

"No! We have to leave," Yves exclaimed. "Hide. In the Jeffries tubes."

"I don't see any Jeffries' tubes in the room," Kathryn said.

"They're not obvious any more. It's a precaution after we had problems -- over there," Yves said, pointing. The longer they talked, the closer those angry aliens came, the more afraid he was and the less it mattered that the younger kids stayed calm -- he ran across to the back of the room near the replicator and tore at the latches, which were flush against the wall panels. He yanked and the hatch cover flew off, clanging to the floor. 

"Come on!" he shouted. "Hurry!" His shout echoed around the quiet room full of staring people. Then in a moment of silence they heard it -- a distant whine of phaser fire. Which shouldn't have been audible at all. It had to be a large phaser rifle, on a high setting.

"Into the tubes," Kathryn ordered sternly. "Children first! Yves, take Nina with you -- does anyone know if there is a weapons locker in the room?"

One of the other adults did, and as Yves pushed the twins in and lifted Nina inside the hatch, rifles were being passed to Kathryn and Guinan and several others. One of the school teachers went in next, telling the kids not to touch any buttons and crawl as far as they could. Yves waited and crawled up last. 

Kathryn came to pick up the hatch. She tossed a hand phaser in with him. "Get them as far as possible, close the bulkheads behind you as you go," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am."

She smiled. "Good boy. Don't come out until someone comes in for you."

Yves turned and found the tube clogged. "Crawl in. Go up," he shouted ahead, at the people in front of them. "Hurry!" He picked up the hand phaser before Rosalind could, and kept it pointed to the rear but in hand as he slowly crawled behind everyone else.

\----------------------

"Decks ten, fourteen and twenty," deLio said. 

"Give the order to evacuate decks nine, eleven, thirteen, sixteen, nineteen, twenty-one," Jean-Luc snapped. There had already been preparations -- the procedure involved all nonessential personnel heading for the lifts, and once the boarding ships had latched on and the drilling through the hull had begun, they would shift to other decks and atmosphere vented from the infiltrated areas.

"Forcefields going into place around the areas being boarded. Evacuation in progress. Venting atmosphere." deLio looked up from his board. "I have dispatched security to deck ten, to seal in the safe room."

Jean-Luc couldn't suppress the scowl, the intense anger that came about out of the fear -- the people in that room -- 

"How are they doing this?" Zweller asked. He was seated next to the counselor, to the left of Jean-Luc's chair. "How do they get through the shields?"

"They've been given alternating discriminators that isolate frequencies -- they work on their smaller vessels only. The hole they make can't be increased, or permanent, but it opens long enough to get a small two person vessel in. And these are Asili -- they don't need very many to be effective."

Zweller said nothing, and looked grim, as if he knew what Asili were. Keller continued to look as alarmed as she had when he'd called the red alert in response to Deanna's alert -- that the ship's sensors had not detected anything was beside the point, she'd sensed Asili and that was enough. And their ships had decloaked -- these were different vessels than they'd used before, but no matter, these creatures took what they were given without regard for the people the technology was stolen from. 

The bridge shuddered again. "Fire phasers," Jean-Luc snapped. "Lock down the bridge and main engineering."

Audible metallic thudding, as the bulkheads shifted to close down the turbolifts and Jeffries tube access points. Zweller's head jerked as he gaped at Jean-Luc. "Deanna -- "

"Mr. Edison, status," Jean-Luc exclaimed, practically snarling. 

"Deck ten -- phaser fire, in the safe room," the ops manager exclaimed.

{Yves is in the Jeffries tubes -- all the children and most of the civilians are. All fine. Focus.}

That Deanna had been aware of him and also checking on the children reassured him, but it was a few seconds' distraction. He blinked and refocused. "deLio, how many?"

"Ten ships, attached. Ten more approaching."

"Did you get the frequency?"

"Aye, sir."

"Remodulate the shields!" He watched one of the four large vessels coming about. "Target the leading two vessels, full spread of quantum torpedoes, fire!"

The bridge shook hard a moment later -- one vessel reeled to starboard, the other blossomed into crimson flame and vaporized. And the _Enterprise_ shook again.

"The ten approaching boarders have been repelled, sir. One vessel destroyed, one disabled."

Jean-Luc watched the two other vessels, which had been lagging on the periphery, and sprang up from his seat to stalk up between the ops and helm consoles. Putting his hands on his hips, he waited. 

"deLio?" he exclaimed after a too-long wait.

"Two of the boarding parties are returned to their ships. Deck ten has been -- "

deLio's words faded out as he felt the pain start, it flooded in from his head and up from his abdomen, and then Deanna, clearly awake and functional despite her injury, blocked him hard. He opened eyes that he hadn't been aware that he closed.

" -- of the twelve officers have been beamed to sickbay," deLio was saying. "Deck ten secured. Sir, are you all right?"

Jean-Luc realized he was swaying slightly back, and snapped upright again. "Fine. Target the other two vessels. Phasers, on a rotating frequency. Fire. Dulles, attack pattern theta."

The phasers hit both ships as the _Enterprise_ started to move.

The battle didn't last much longer, now that the boarding ships were being repelled. The fourth ship retreated, with significant damage, and they pursued as far as the edge of the Telfas system, and Jean-Luc sighed and let them go, knowing that being drawn away would leave the people on the planet vulnerable.

"Captain LaForge is hailing, sir," deLio said as they returned to the planet. "They were successful in defending the planet. Three vessels destroyed."

"Good. Let him know we're on the way back. Cancel the alert -- damage report?"

One casualty, three injuries, and all the civilians and children were fine -- it was a much better outcome than he usually had, Jean-Luc thought with a heavy sigh.

"You're not even going to ask about her?" Zweller asked softly.

Jean-Luc felt as though ice water flowed over him from head to toe, followed by a slight ache in his forehead. He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at the counselor, who was sitting closest to him -- she was so composed that he knew she was working hard not to show her emotions. She met his gaze and didn't flinch or speak.

He raised his gaze to the viewer, noting distantly that neither Dulles nor Edison was paying any attention to him. "Mr. Edison. Repair crews?" 

"Aye, sir. Force fields in place and repair crews en route to seal the breaches. Atmosphere returning to all decks and all hands returning to their duty stations."

"Unlock the bridge. Mr. deLio, contact Telfas Three and inform them we are evacuating the colony as well as the rescued crew. Have Captain LaForge begin the evacuation. We're pulling everyone out of the system." Jean-Luc raised his head slightly, inhaling deeply, trying to settle his stomach. He lowered his voice, calming himself, fighting the adrenalin left over from the battle. "Counselor, would you join me in my ready room?"

She followed him in, hesitated -- he pointed at the chairs facing the desk as he headed into the alcove to the replicator. He brought back two cups of tea, sat down, and placed hers at the edge of the desk in front of her.

Keller took it carefully and sniffed. "Earl Grey."

"Yes."

She nodded and sipped, and leaned back. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"What is your impression of Captain Zweller?"

Keller slowly sipped, thought about it, and sipped again, and then set the cup on the edge of the desk. "He's observing too. Isn't he?"

"I don't think he was ordered to do it until we took his ship back to the starbase. I think some admirals saw an opportunity."

Keller shook her head, woe and anger fighting for prominence in her face. "Why?"

"Disbelief. They don't know who we really are. Reputation isn't enough, my service record, her service record -- not enough." He watched her struggle while he sipped his tea. "Keela, you must be objective, in your evaluation. Can you be objective about us?"

"Yes, sir, I can." It was the stern determination of an officer.

"Go to sickbay and talk to Deanna."

The stunned look replaced the anger.

"The Asili have usually been given energy-resistant armor. Phasers are less effective than other weapons -- the commander was likely using bladed weaponry, if phaser rifles weren't enough to stop them. It's likely that her continued absence from the bridge means that she has been injured."

"Why do you want me to go?"

The rising fury crested like a wave, and receded, leaving him to open his eyes again. He opened his mouth to speak, and another wave rolled through him. The anger he tried so hard to rationalize away, to set aside, wasn't easy to bring to a simmer once it had risen -- that he had just come out of a battle didn't help. 

He heard the tightness in his voice even as he strove to be calm, but it couldn't be helped. "Our duty is to protect, to explore, to expand, to maintain the peace, to be ambassadors of the great Federation of Planets. I do my job. She -- " 

It wouldn't come. He winced, turning away, sneering. Looking at the stars outside steadied him. "You asked me how I feel about Commander Troi. I feel that the rest of Starfleet should aspire to be half the officer -- "

The pain was bleeding back through. They must be sedating her. The trickle of sensation faded again.

He turned back to the counselor, whose expression had changed -- she was watching him with wide eyes. "Check her service record. Listen to her logs. Talk to Captain LaForge, and Commander deLio, and contact Data -- he's no longer active duty, but he teaches at MIT and as an adjunct professor at the Academy. If you have aspirations of being an officer, she's the example you want to follow."

Keller's lips thinned, and she gave a slight nod. 

"Dismissed, Lieutenant."

After she left, Jean-Luc pushed his tea away, pivoted his chair, and stared as the ship arrived and established orbit. When Dulles contacted him to announce it, he gave the order to begin beaming out the rescued officers of the _Farragut_ as quickly as possible.

A few moments passed, and his door opened. Corey came in, and when Jean-Luc turned his chair back, he saw a penitent expression on his old friend's face.

"I'm not angry at you, Corey."

"Jean-Luc -- "

"Orders are orders, Corey. We all follow them unless we have a compelling reason to not follow them. It isn't your fault."

"Mengis to Picard."

Jean-Luc paused, sagging a little. "Go ahead."

"The commander will be on medical leave for about a day. We're keeping her in sickbay for six hours, to be sure she's stable before we send her home. Lieutenant Gaffney will need a longer stay. The remainder of the injuries were minor, and will be in my full report."

"Thank you, Doctor. Picard out."

He stared at Corey, picking up his tea to take the last sip.

"God damn it, Johnny!" Corey shook his head, and kept shaking it. "I've been in space as long as you have. What the hell turned you into -- whatever the hell you are? How do you not want to know -- "

"Corey," he shouted, then closed his eyes. He let his head fall back against the head rest on his chair. "I do what I have to do," he said softly. "Exactly what has to be done. That's what we do. It's what I have always, always done. My duty, to serve the Federation."

"I'm not even sure what to tell the admiral now."

Jean-Luc peered through his lashes at his friend. "You tell the admiral the truth. I love my wife -- I let her do whatever she damn well pleases. And it pleases her to run around the ship attacking cannibalistic aliens with a bat'leth, when phasers don't do the job. It pleases her to do her damn job! Exactly what she's always done, regardless of how much it hurts her, or me! Fucking admirals and their fucking meddling in our affairs be damned, we're not going anywhere until we're ready to go. I have children, damn it, I'm not letting Command fuck up their future any more than they have already! You can tell them she'll be in and out of sickbay as many times as she has to be, to do her fucking job!"

Snatching up the tea cup, Jean-Luc threw it hard as he could. It shattered somewhere in the replicator alcove. He reached down, opened the drawer, pulled out two shot glasses, then a decanter of brilliant green liquid. 

"Fucking admirals," he growled, pouring the Aldebaran whiskey and passing one to Corey. 

Corey held it in thumb and forefinger, watching him pick up the second one. "To fucking Starfleet," he exclaimed, raising his glass.

The shot went down like plasma, searing the back of his throat all the way. Jean-Luc poured the second one. Corey raised his glass with him.

"To the backbone of Starfleet," he said softly. "To line officers, dead and alive. To officers who meet and exceed expectations."

Corey nodded slowly. "To Deanna Troi."

Jean-Luc touched the rim of his glass to Corey's, and together they threw back the second shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the strategies in this section come from the WIP of the sequel to On the Madhouse Boards.


	15. Chapter 15

Yves held Nina's hand -- but she clung to his, bumping into his leg as he walked her to sickbay. Ros didn't cling to him at least, just looked worried as they walked. "I'm sure she's fine," he said, not bothering to explain how he knew that. They reached the door and went inside.

Kathryn was sitting up on a bed, and her daughters ran to her, abandoning Yves. He watched them grinning and Ros helping her little sister up to be on the bed with their mother. Then he went to the left, two beds down from them, and put his hand on his mother's arm.

"She'll be fine," Mengis said. A hand descended on Yves' shoulder. He didn't look up at the doctor.

She didn't move -- she wasn't awake, but Yves had known that as he approached sickbay. Nothing appeared to be wrong, to the eye, but he'd sensed her pain, when she'd confronted the Asili while he was huddling in the tube above the room they'd been in, hiding, with his siblings and Nina and Ros practically sitting in his lap and clinging to him. The stabbing pain had been enough to pierce the overwhelming fear from the kids around him.

"Her ribs," he said, remembering the pain in his side.

"I'm going to give you some inhibitor, so you can sleep tonight." Mengis' hand guided him away from Maman. "She'll come home soon -- I'll wake her in an hour and she'll be able to walk back on her own. I'm just letting her rest. That's all."

"Okay."

After his dose of inhibitor, everything went away -- all the emotional noise that he'd gotten so accustomed to ignoring, the pressure of anxiety and frustration flooding him -- it was so quiet that he almost felt anxious himself, because he'd become so used to it all. 

He thanked the doctor again and hesitated on the way out of sickbay as Kathryn and her daughters joined him. In the corridor, she put a hand on his shoulder. "Yves, thank you, for trusting your instincts. That was not easy to do, I'm sure." 

"Maman told me about the Asili. She told me if I ever sensed them up close like that, that we needed to get as far into the Jeffries tubes as we could, into the really narrow ones where they couldn't follow us. They can smell us but they're so big they can't reach us in smaller spaces."

Kathryn stopped walking and stared at him, her arm draped on Ros' shoulders. She looked surprised, and very happy, and proud. "You saved everyone in that room, Yves. If they had surprised us I'm not sure what would have happened -- it would have been bad. It would have been easy to trust me, but you did exactly what you needed to do. If I could I would give you a commendation for it."

Yves grinned and shrugged. "I had my orders."

Ros leaped at him and hugged him tightly, and Nina hugged his leg. "Thank you," Kathryn said again, softly.

\-------------------------

"After everyone else went into the Jeffries tubes and I sealed the hatch, we heard the sound of the battle just outside the door, so we took aim and waited," Kathryn said. 

Jean-Luc refilled Corey's glass without being asked, and set the wine bottle back in the center of the table. He picked up his own glass and sipped the merlot.

"I've listened to logs, I've even seen the hologram representations of Asili in training sims -- it wasn't enough to prepare me. Good God, the smell -- I think I've been on more pleasant garbage scows. When we fired it wounded it but the thing had that body armor, it took too long to get through it so it had a chance to rush us. And it fell on its face just before it got within arm's reach, with this knife sticking out of the back of its neck, among the quills. Deanna had thrown it, and she was running again, heading out of the room the instant she threw the knife but the second one arrived, just appeared in the door like it beamed in, and then she was flying through the air backward and hit a table. We fired -- I ordered a continuous barrage and while everyone else worked on slowing him down I got a bead on the thing's neck, between that helmet and the body armor. Just a few centimeters of gap to aim at but it did the trick. I didn't anticipate the dying throes of the creatures. When I went to help Deanna, the body of the first one thrashed. Someone screamed, and two of them fired at the body in a panic. A beam clipped my arm." She patted her left bicep. 

Corey was continuously shaking his head, grimacing, not at all approving. "I've been through a lot. As we all have. The problem I'm having now is one of perspective -- we are acquainted with being able to handle whatever the universe is throwing at us. Has it always been this difficult, or am I right in assuming that things are different here, along the outskirts of the Beta Quadrant, where a starship can't go anywhere without one or more other ships to be sure they come back?"

"And you are right to question," Jean-Luc said.

Pattering footfalls preceded the arrival of Cordelia, running out from her room, wearing her pink pajamas. Jean-Luc stood up before she could attempt to climb in his lap, and led her by the hand back to her bed.

"But what if they come back?" she whined. Clearly someone had said something in her presence -- she hadn't seen the Asili. But the experience of waiting in the Jeffries tube, huddling in the cramped space with the other children and frightened adults, had had an impact.

"Then we'll send them away again."

"Is Maman okay? Can I go to sickbay and see her? Yves said she was asleep. Is she awake yet?"

"She'll come see you when she gets home."

Cordelia went down and let him tuck her in, but sat up again. "But what if they come back and they won't go away?"

Jean-Luc sighed, smoothing her flyaway hair back from her face. "We'll make them go away."

She thought about it, and suddenly a grin wiped away her fear. "Yves will come get me."

He kissed her on the forehead to hide his surprise at that. "That's right. Go to sleep." He watched her settle in, curling up slightly, her eyes closed. On the way out he turned off her light and paused in the hall to take a deep breath, before returning to the living room.

"Is she all right?" Kathryn asked. She'd expressed concerns, and put Nina and Rosalind in Amy's bedroom after all three girls had expressed a desire to not be alone. 

"I would guess she will end up in Pierre's room again only sooner than last night. She's pretty sure Yves will rescue her though."

"Oh, of course he will. You know that boy will be a captain at eighteen," Kathryn exclaimed, sipping her wine. She'd told him exactly how proud he should be of Yves, in no uncertain terms, shortly after the children had gone to bed.

"I imagine so," Corey chimed in. "Something you said -- he knew what aliens they were, without seeing them?"

Kathryn looked at Jean-Luc as if handing the matter over to him. Her description of Yves' behavior had indeed hinted at that. Jean-Luc smiled ruefully, as he hadn't told Corey exactly how Deanna's empathy worked, and talking about this would lead to that. 

"Yves is being trained by his mother, in the ways of empathy. One of her precautions has been to share directly with him, telepathically, the identities of aliens that he needs to protect himself from. He sensed and recognized the Asili when they boarded the ship. Overriding the directions from adults he has been taught to respect was the end result. Fortunately, he takes advice, unlike me." Jean-Luc smirked at the memory of that younger version of himself.

Corey sighed, a smile of bittersweet memory in place. "If he's already trained how to have the discernment as to when to disobey orders...."

The door opened, and Deanna arrived. Slowly, moving like an old woman, wearing a blue house dress she clearly replicated in sickbay for the walk home, her hair down loose. The waves and curls had a mind of their own, after a day in tight braids. 

She came across the room and took the chair between Corey and Jean-Luc. Rather than delay Jean-Luc slid his half-full glass of wine to her, and went to his office for another bottle. He sat and worked at opening it.

Kathryn broke the silence. "I almost feel like we need champagne."

"The Merlot suits me," Deanna said, tasting it. 

"What's going on?" Jean-Luc asked. He waved his hand in the air, in a roughly circular motion.

Deanna took another sip and seemed to ponder it. "Our crew are mostly calm -- the rescued officers are quite relieved, except for Caleb, who is exhibiting an unusually dark and angst-ridden guilt and anxiety that reminds me of this wine. Yves is brooding, the girls are giggling, Pierre is asleep and Cordelia has a few thoughts about whether she should wear green tomorrow because it will match her best friend's favorite shirt. Mr. Aguilar is worrying about something -- probably afraid someone will catch him falling asleep on watch again, so you should head up there in about an hour and shout loudly for him to come to attention. Corey is shocked and Kathryn thinks I'm showing off. And you are muddling around in the back of your brain about Mr. Moreno -- he was quite terrified during the red alert, thanks to the descriptions provided by anxious crew who were with us the last time we were boarded, and I'm now planning to invite him to the first scheduled cadet training simulation, which will be one of Natalia's horrible battle sims featuring -- what did she call them... Klingon porcupines with halitosis and no honor. Because he asked me yesterday, about the cadet trainings, and I invited him to come to our first one, for the new crop of cadets. I'm perfectly happy to help him acquire useful field experience."

"And over on the _Venture_?" Jean-Luc grinned at the look on Corey's face.

"Geordi... Well. He'd better introduce her to us tomorrow." Deanna was stifling a giggle, cleared her throat and gave her head a quick shake. "He's holding out on us. Nat's on watch. There's a good number of people who are angry -- probably colonists, forced to leave their lucrative mining operation lying idle."

"No aliens?"

"None I recognize, certainly none with any malicious intent that I can detect. Some faint sense of something to starboard -- but we've already moved beyond it, so nothing moving at warp."

"So if you kick Moreno's ass, I'll throw Caleb in a closet, and we'll be done."

Deanna gave him a milder death glare than usual, which faded into thoughtfulness. 

"Who is Caleb?" Kathryn asked.

"He was that fellow cadet who made my Academy experience less than positive -- on top of so many other woes, including a persistent struggle with astronavigation, he took it upon himself to use empathy against me repeatedly." Deanna turned from their friend to nod Jean-Luc's direction. "This one started with his habit of making jokes at his own expense to distract me from my own masochistic introspection, the last time Caleb was in the area."

Jean-Luc held up his hands in denial of it. "No idea what you mean."

"Seems to me I know that kind of cadet," Corey said, eyeing Jean-Luc. "The kind who finds ways to exploit the competition's weaknesses."

"I'm pretty sure Caleb wasn't being competitive. Vengeful, yes. Vindictive." Jean-Luc poured a little more wine in his glass. "In any case, you don't have to see him if you don't want to, Dee."

"I won't even have to debate that," Deanna replied with a resigned expression.

"Do you mean that you have to, or that -- " Corey's question was interrupted by the annunciator.

"There's a weapons locker down the corridor," Jean-Luc offered. "It should be big enough to stuff him in."

"No -- Captain," she countered, setting her near-empty glass on the table. "Come in."

Caleb Haymore had changed -- aside from the promotion he had gained weight, and the new uniform style did little for him. His hair had receded quite a bit. At seeing the collected officers, he did a mild double-take. Kathryn was out of uniform, but Corey and Jean-Luc were not. 

"I wanted to thank you, Captain, for your help," he said, eyes coming to rest on Jean-Luc. 

"All in a day's work," Jean-Luc said amiably. 

Caleb looked at Deanna then, his face settling into a curious expression of regret. 

"It was difficult losing your vessel," she said softly. "And your captain."

Jean-Luc felt that resonate with himself -- and it certainly resonated with Caleb, who actually took a step backward, his expression now twisting as he no doubt tried to avoid whatever strong feelings her words evoked.

"You are welcome to speak with the counselor tomorrow," Jean-Luc said, hoping that was enough to avoid Deanna making any such offer herself. 

"I may do that. It was very difficult. But I wanted to tell you -- I listened to your logs, which I came across trying to deal with the Asili, before everything went to hell," Caleb said roughly. "I wanted you to know -- I have nothing but respect, for you and your captain."

It appeared that Kathryn and Corey could tell this was something serious -- they stared at Deanna. She was calm, if appearances mattered, and then a slight smile appeared as she lowered her gaze. "Thank you," she murmured, raising her eyes again, nodding. "That means a lot to me, Caleb."

"I hope we have a chance to talk. I won't keep you -- I heard, from your second officer, that you'd been injured...."

"I'll see you tomorrow, perhaps."

He left again, after a nod to Jean-Luc. After the door closed Deanna reached for her wine again. She drank, not just sipping.

"Dee?" Jean-Luc almost reached for the glass to take it from her, based on her recent discharge from sickbay and potential unknown side effects of alcohol mixing with whatever drug still floated in her blood. But the annunciator went off. "Well, no wonder you're trying to imbibe so heavily," he blurted. "Now what?"

"If you want to kill him, I'll go get the holo-imager," she said, setting down the empty glass and retreating toward the office. She winced after three steps and slowed to a wobble, and finally disappeared as the annunciator went off again.

"Come in," Jean-Luc shouted, his tone anything but inviting.

He actually made it to stage two before he caught himself. Moreno walked in. At once, probably correctly interpreting Jean-Luc's expression as a warning of his error and impending demise, he stopped and held up his hands in surrender. 

"You could have sent your resignation along in the morning," Jean-Luc said, impressing himself with how nearly-pleasant that sounded.

It was almost too satisfying, watching the man gape at him. "I -- "

" -- was only following orders, to be sure. Tell the admiral, whichever one faults you for tipping your hand, that it only works to send observers without creating chaos on a ship of the line if said observer actually notifies the subject and allows the actual operation of the vessel to go unimpeded by attempts to use under-qualified personnel. Lieutenant Ger'dan sent me a full report as to why he disobeyed your orders, during the battle earlier."

"Are you sure this is the way you want to handle this," Moreno said. 

Jean-Luc sprang up from the chair and checked himself. Picard temper tantrums never involved physical violence, he thought, and clung to that. Then Deanna's silent laughter trickled in and around his thoughts, and the fury at the man's veiled threat dwindled. She was correct. He didn't matter. 

"If you mean that I want to fire the man who is evaluating the commander and I for evidence of broken regulations, no. If you mean I want to replace you with an engineer who will function smoothly within the chain of command, without requiring intervention from subordinates to correct things on the chief engineer's behalf to keep him from setting into motion a chain of events that will result in everyone on board becoming meals for cannibalistic aliens and the failure to complete the mission -- you are quite correct, and there is no threat you can make that will keep me from maintaining the peak efficiency of this vessel. Get out."

"Captain -- "

The anger he'd so carefully kept out of his voice during his previous response colored his words, now. "I am sitting here with my friends, having a glass of wine. You do not belong here. If you want to accuse me, question me, it can wait until tomorrow morning when I am on duty."

"I haven't completed my -- "

The bedroom door opened, and Deanna returned. "Look what I finally found, Jean-Luc," she said, her tone breezy and joyful as no housewife would ever be about a blood-stained bat'leth. "All this time it was in the bottom of that last box -- the movers must have been particularly careless packing, this time. Hello, Mr. Moreno."

The man stared at the pointed blade, being held vertically so easily in Deanna's hands. Anyone who knew how heavy Klingon weapons were would be impressed.

"I'll be able to practice my forms in class now," she added, sweeping the bat'leth in lazy crescents, tossing and catching it to adjust her grip smoothly. "I should probably clean it first though."

The door opened and closed -- Moreno was gone. 

"Put that down," Jean-Luc exclaimed, trying to scold but smiling too hard. "You're scaring Corey."

Corey snorted. But she leaned the weapon against the wall near the office door, and slowly went to the chair she'd abandoned, to sit with them again. "What an insufferable petaQ."

"I gather that was someone evaluating you, but it's puzzling -- he's an engineer?"

"I suppose your annual evaluations are not done by spies," Jean-Luc said, gazing at Kathryn. "Yet."

"Wait," Corey began, looking across the table. 

"Oh, look what you've done -- and I was enjoying his flirting. Although I suppose he flirts with Deanna right in front of you. Yes, Corey, me too." Kathryn now sat in the chair with her legs folded, one underneath and one knee hugged to her chest. She'd been out of uniform the whole time she'd been aboard, and wore a pantsuit most often. Tonight's was a muted shade of teal. 

"What are you going to tell Chakotay?" Deanna asked.

"That I went on vacation and your son kept our children from being kidnapped by aliens, of course. Telling him they might have been eaten is an entirely different story." She sighed. 

"Just send him a picture of Deanna with her bloody weapon," Corey joked. 

"It's raspberry jam," Deanna confessed. "We left the breakfast dishes in the bedroom."

"Slicing up the toast and cutting the steak around here gets interesting," Jean-Luc added. 

"It's getting late -- I'm going to leave the girls with Amy, if that's all right," Kathryn said. She unfolded from the chair and came around the table to kiss each of them on the cheek, and left for her quarters.

"I suppose I should go as well," Corey said. He gave Deanna a weary, resigned look. "I'm sorry, about my part in the evaluation."

"I'd actually rather you had done it than someone like Moreno. Not that you are going to have a bias in our favor, but more that you're someone who's had experience that gives you a more objective grounding in service -- you've been in command. You've had experience that informs your opinion." Deanna leaned on the table, her chair pivoted to face Corey. Jean-Luc contemplated braiding the long cascade of her hair, which was obscuring her back at this point and within easy reach.

"I'm still thinking about how to word my report. But it'll be objective as I can make it." Finally, there was a little seriousness in Corey's eyes -- he was eyeing Deanna with the calculation of a captain facing down enemy vessels. "Just how many times have you faced down those Asili?"

"It's in her service record," Jean-Luc said, sliding his hand up her back, under her hair, and applying gentle pressure between her shoulder blades. 

"Okay. Good night, Jean-Luc." Corey stood stiffly, leaned to kiss Deanna's cheek, and left them there. 

"Bed time for the wounded."

Deanna finally showed the exhaustion in her face, as she swiveled the chair back to look at him. "Read to me?"

"I have some poetry you haven't heard yet, I'm sure."

She stood, slowly, and he wanted to take her arm but waited for her to ask for help. She didn't, and he followed her slow creeping walk through the office to the bedroom. Deanna raised her arms, and he obediently pulled the dress off over her head. The usual angry red aftermath of intense use of a regenerator covered the right side of her rib cage, front and back, and he went to the bathroom to bring back one of her favorite scented lotions. 

After he'd braided her hair, helped her apply moisturizer to the inflamed skin, and watched her slip under the covers, he went about his own preparation, a sonic shower and a night shirt, and returned to spoon with her. He skipped the poetry reading -- she was already mostly asleep, and finished the journey after he'd come to rest with his chin against the back of her head.


	16. Chapter 16

"Aunt Kathy, can you help me with my math later today?"

They were on the last few meters of the walk to school -- the rest of the kids, including Nina, had been left in their appropriate classrooms, and Yves being the oldest was the last stop for Kathryn before she went to do whatever she did during the day, while she was visiting.

Kathryn slowed and grinned at him as she patted his shoulder. "Of course. I'm surprised you still need help."

"Maybe I don't, really, but it's more fun to do with you."

She laughed at him. "Okay, and after we're done we can do something else, maybe velocity?"

"Or springball, or one of Nat's sims?"

Kathryn sobered at that. "You've been doing cadet simulations?"

"No, she made us some other kinds -- sort of like storybook adventures. Pirates, and a jungle, and a big sailing ship. Lots of monkeys for the twins and some princess types for Amy."

"And an alligator? That sounds like Peter Pan." Her smile relaxed, and she nodded. "All right. If Ros likes it we may want a copy of that one."

Yves turned to take the last steps into the classroom, but hesitated. He sensed Papa -- no mistaking that presence -- coming toward them. Turning, he waited until Papa came around the corner.

"Kathryn, we're back at the starbase in orbit. I got a brief message from Chakotay -- he'd like you to contact him," Papa said.

"All right. See you later, Yves." She turned and hurried the other direction.

Papa gestured for Yves to come along, answering the question of why he hadn't just opened a channel to talk to Kathryn. "I wanted to talk to you, for a bit. We didn't have a chance to do it privately this morning."

"Okay." Breakfast had been crazy, with Nina, Ros and Kathryn there, and the twins still being anxious and expressing it by getting irritable and arguing. Maman had been moving like a sloth, obviously tired, and Papa had been torn between concern for her and trying to get the twins and Amy going. Yves had done his best to be self sufficient and to nudge his siblings along.

They walked together in silence down the corridor. Deck ten was one of the quieter decks to walk. Finally Papa said, "Kathryn is right. You did a wonderful job, dealing with the situation yesterday. Amy said you were telling everyone in the tubes things were going well, that they were safe -- I know you sensed things that would have made it easy to panic."

"Kathryn and Maman were handling them. I knew they would protect us."

"Your mother will be talking to you later about a few things. She and I came to the conclusion that we were making decisions regarding what you've wanted to do based on our own experiences -- " Papa hesitated, and again, the confusion of anger and pain and anxiety created a muddle in Yves' head, as his father thought about things before speaking. Then Papa was stopping their slow walk and dropping to a knee in front of him, taking his shoulders in his hands.

"Your mother is going to start teaching you how to use weapons, in class," he said. "You won't be able to use them in tournaments until you've satisfied her that it's safe."

Yves had to shake himself a little. "Why did you change your mind?" he asked, before he could contain himself.

"I keep looking at you and seeing myself," Papa said, smiling, a curious blend of regret and sadness showing in his face. "Your Maman wants to avoid the indulgence and pampering her mother lavished on her. We realized as we talked this morning about what happened yesterday that we haven't really thought about you -- we haven't been able to objectively look at you, and make decisions based on what you're ready to do. We're not our parents, and you're not like either one of us, at twelve. You're smart, and you're able to look at things rationally in ways that other children your age don't seem to manage -- it's not your mistakes we should be focused on. You'll make plenty of them. It's how you respond to them, and what you're doing in stressful situations, and what you learn from all of this. We've agreed that you are ready for more than we've been ready to give you."

Yves grinned along with him, and fell forward to throw his arms around Papa's neck. Papa wrapped him up in his arms in a way he rarely did any more, and kept him there for a bit. When Yves stepped back Papa stood up again, and gave him a gentle push back toward the classroom. 

Yves walked slowly away, letting the intensity of the pride and love he'd been floating in fade as he went, wiping a few tears off his face with his sleeve. It took a moment of standing in the empty corridor, breathing, to settle down enough to enter class with a calm smile in place. "Sorry I'm late, Mrs. Ching."

\---------------------

Jean-Luc went to the bridge, checked on the status of another round of repairs, and went to his ready room. Thinking about it, he checked his messages -- nothing from Command, he noted, frustrated -- and settled in with a book and some tea for a distraction from fretting about the evaluation.

It was expected that he'd have visitors. He was expecting a cadet in half an hour, in fact -- he'd scheduled two per day, with the interruption of the mission delaying yesterday's. But when he admitted the person requesting admittance he was surprised to find it was the counselor.

"I did complete the evaluation. Would you like to see it?"

"No."

Keller smiled. "I can guess why, but I'll ask."

"It wouldn't do me any good to read it. I won't see Zweller's, and I definitely won't see Moreno's." The engineer had disembarked that morning, along with his things. "Best to just deal with whatever comes, as it comes. I can't influence it or change it."

"Moreno tried again this morning, to talk to me, so I listened to him. He was pretty upset -- I think it was a blow to his ego, that you didn't allow him to have any influence over you. He appeared to think his orders to evaluate you gave him some sort of power. I told him when he was done venting that I thought he was an extremely poor choice of evaluator, because he was letting his emotions cloud his opinions too much. I said as much in my message to the Judge Advocate General, and suggested that they use counselors for these evaluations. A certain level of impartiality is needed, to be useful."

"I think I'll let my first officer choose the engineer. She's done well choosing a counselor, after all."

Keller was laughing, startled at his assertion, when the first officer arrived unannounced. Deanna hesitated, looking at the counselor seated in her usual spot, and took a step to the right and sat in the other chair. 

"Commander," Jean-Luc said in greeting. "Something on your mind?"

"I rescheduled the appointment you were supposed to have with Cadet Finch. He's going to be in the sim, along with all the others. I thought you and the counselor would like to observe the first simulation of their training cruise?"

"Are you sure traumatizing the counselor is wise?"

Deanna tilted her head, smiling at the counselor. "Do you feel up to watching cadets in battle?"

"I've been in battle simulations, at the Academy. I'm guessing that like everything else, it's different here?"

Jean-Luc picked up his tea, used it to gesture at Deanna before taking a sip. "We arm ourselves with blades, as well as phasers. There's also a large number of serious martial artists aboard. The commander and I have the unfortunate distinction of having been in too many near-hopeless situations, over the past decade."

Keller thought about it and gave him a grim smile. "Then if I'm going to be an officer, and a counselor treating crew who are put in these situations, I should be participating in the sims. Probably more than just the sims. I'm guessing I should take my cues from you, instead of official thinking on the subject."

"I like the way you think, Counselor." Jean-Luc rose and headed for the replicator. "It sounds like another counselor I used to know." He returned with a teapot, two more cups, and a plate of chocolate cookies. While they were pouring theirs, he ran practiced fingers across the controls, and brought up a list of transfer requests, narrowing the field to engineering staff. 

"Fifteen possibilities," he said. "Looks like there's a lieutenant applying for a transfer, from one of our sister ships, the _Dauntless_."

Deanna nipped the edge off a cookie. "Lieutenant Fox. Keela, could you do a thorough background check on him?"

Keller paused in raising her cup to her lips, to look askance at Deanna. "Do you know everyone in the fleet?"

"A good first officer anticipates the needs of the ship and crew. In Dee's case, it's a rather urgent thing -- she's accustomed to having a good engineer. Communication and delegation is difficult if there's a mismatch in senior staff. She probably looked at the list this morning while she was putting out the duty roster for the week."

"Lieutenant-Commander Loomis worked with Batris, on the _Callisto_. He might be another to consider." 

They talked casually about two more of the officers on the list, while Deanna ate cookies and the three of them drank tea. At length she turned to Keller. "You seem to be thinking hard. You're confused."

The confusion turned to alarm, in Keller's eyes. Deanna was finally revealing that piece to the counselor, Jean-Luc realized, and stepped in. "The commander is an empath. Don't be surprised if she reacts to how you feel at times. She does, if she feels it's something to be addressed before it impacts ship operations."

Epiphany lit the counselor's face. Then, a growing trepidation. "I hope -- "

"No," Deanna said softly. "You would have to do a lot more to offend me, Keela."

That made little sense, but Jean-Luc didn't want to know the context. "What time is the simulation to start? And I hope you don't intend to participate. Limited duty requires you to avoid calisthenics, after all."

They arrived in the corridor outside holodeck three to find a crowd of milling cadets in gray uniforms, the departmental stripe across the shoulders dividing them evenly into subgroups. One of them blurted out a command upon seeing the captain, and the rest snapped to -- now there were two neat rows of silent cadets at attention against the wall opposite the holodeck doors. 

"Today's simulation will be a scenario not unlike yesterday's crisis," Deanna announced. She went to the door, which opened at her approach, and turned to the control panel. "Computer, load program Troi Delta four four two, option three."

She ordered the cadets in, and directed Keller and Jean-Luc to holodeck two. "I'll be there momentarily, after orienting them to the scenario."

Holodeck two was already loaded and running with the observation deck program, one wall appearing to be an immense window into the next holodeck. "I'm impressed," Keller exclaimed, taking one of the six chairs in the line of seats in the center of the room. 

"Hello, sir," deLio said, as he arrived silently behind them. Jean-Luc sat between the security chief and the counselor and watched the cadets be briefed, armed, and turned loose in the simulation of the lower decks of the _Enterprise_. Deanna arrived to sit next to deLio.

"I told them not to have high expectations of their performance," she said. 

"The Command candidates are leading the groups?" Jean-Luc asked, watching the group of thirty-two split up -- the computer automatically subdivided the display as groups parted ways at junctions of corridors. "How many Asili are you putting in the simulation?"

"Each group will confront one of them. I figured that would be sufficient. The goal isn't to kill them, necessarily, just to keep them from getting past each team."

Jean-Luc watched the first few groups encounter one of the huge aliens -- within fifteen minutes or so, half the groups had failed to keep their assailant from getting by them. Another fifteen minutes saw the rest of the cadets making their way back to the starting point, after failing to stop the massive creature they'd confronted. There were, he noted, two Vulcans, a Bolian, a Ferengi and a Klingon in this group. And he'd seen Kenny at last, briefly, in one of the first groups to fail.

Deanna had the computer add more chairs to their own holodeck, and then the cadets started to arrive, each group trailing in with varying expressions of frustration, anger, or even embarrassment. With a nod from Deanna, deLio stood up and addressed the room.

"Over the next months of your training, you will learn how to avoid -- yes, Ensign Strom?"

"I'm not sure how pitting us against a fictional alien helps us," the cadet exclaimed, her voice echoing in the holodeck. Her indignation was obvious. Jean-Luc smiled; he recognized the name from the list of Command candidates, who were coming to them from a short tour of duty following graduation.

deLio stood looking at the ensign for a silent moment. "We do not train using fictional creatures, Ensign. As presented, the opponents in this exercise were not completely accurate -- there would normally be two or more of them in a boarding party, and as of late they have taken to wearing body armor that dissipates phaser fire, making them much more difficult to kill. Commander Troi killed one of them yesterday. She has faced them in previous confrontations. If you would like her to tell you more about how fictional the Asili are, I am certain she would oblige."

"Bridge to captain," came the voice of Edison, who was currently on the bridge. Jean-Luc rose and left the holodeck rather than carry on a conversation there.

"Yes, Mr. Edison?"

"Incoming transmission from Admiral Adira, sir."

That sounded like something he wanted privacy for. "I'm on my way."

It took seven minutes to reach the bridge, and he gestured at the door as he passed the ensign manning tactical and headed for the ready room. At his desk, he tapped the blinking indicator as he sat down. "Picard here."

The admiral's face appeared on the monitor. Adira was human, from one of the many Federation colonies, his hair short and gray, his face deeply lined and careworn. At the moment he had a pleasant smile, but Jean-Luc had a feeling it would not be the happiest conversation he'd ever had with Adira.

"Moreno did not do well, I gather," the admiral said. "I have to apologize to you, Jean-Luc. I had hoped that if anyone could manage him, it would be you. I've had nothing but positive comments about the many cadets you've had along for their training cruise on the _Enterprise_. Moreno did have Academy training, believe it or not. I had hoped you having so much experience with training cadets that the remedial work Moreno needed would have been possible. I was counting on your experience with diplomacy to smooth out potential conflicts between you."

"Were you aware of the affairs he's had?"

"Captain Hannigan refused to take him on partially because of it. His concerns about the lack of experience were primary, but he did comment that he was concerned the man might be interested in his wife, as well, and didn't feel it was worth the added risk of drama on top of the man's lack of field experience."

"Well, I would suppose you assigned him to us because you knew that would not be a concern for me. But it's neither here nor there -- his behavior on duty was unacceptable. Did you review -- "

"Yes, yes, of course I did. You clearly had a good reason to want someone else. It doesn't sound like the subordinates in engineering had faulty reasoning -- the order he gave was obviously a demonstration of Moreno's continued defiance of your protocol. And I know well enough why you've instituted some of those protocols." 

A pause, while Adira appeared to be waiting for something. Jean-Luc had already decided not to address the other concern with the fleet admiral -- let him bring it up. 

"I have an angry message here from Admiral Turay, Jean-Luc. Apparently he gave Moreno an assignment that I was not aware of, to observe and report back to him regarding the status of your relationship with Commander Troi."

So Adira was disavowing knowledge of that part of it. No matter. Whether or not he had been aware, Jean-Luc knew he already trusted them. He stared at the monitor, determined to be calm regardless.

"Turay also forwarded your own counselor's report, and then I have a message here from Captain Zweller, whose assistance it appears Turay also solicited -- I have to wonder, Jean-Luc, what you make of all this interest in your relationship with Commander Troi. I'm a little confused about it. I had the impression, from my predecessor, that there was nothing untoward going on with you. Is there some bad blood with Turay that I am not aware of?"

"I met Admiral Turay one time, two years ago. It was during one of the refits -- we were at McKinley and he beamed up to tour the ship, shortly after he was promoted to Rear Admiral. I don't recall that he even met the commander at the time. I believe she'd taken the children sightseeing." 

"Then I suppose I will have to speak with him directly, to see what the difficulty is. The conflict between these reports is most confusing -- apparently Moreno thinks you're a dictatorial, demanding and harsh man who plays favorites. Not quite the style of command I'd understood you to have, from what others have said."

At this point Jean-Luc knew that there were many at Command who had served with him, in various capacities through the years, or beside him. Letting his peers promote above him and staying aboard the _Enterprise_ had not bothered him, until a new group of admirals he had not served with found their way into positions that directly impacted the second fleet. Adira had turned out to be one of those who appeared completely rational, caring only about professional conduct on duty and regulations and orders being followed. It was the one thing that remained the same, despite the histrionics of other admirals.

"I believe I will allow my record to stand for itself," Jean-Luc said simply. "I have no real quarrel with Moreno and his opinion of me is irrelevant. He is merely inadequate for the position I need to fill. We are reviewing the current list of transfer requests for engineers, and I intend to speak with a few of them within the next twenty-four hours."

Adira's smile became broader, and reached his eyes. "Excellent. It's reassuring that you haven't allowed this unpleasantness with Moreno discourage you. For a few minutes, after reading the report and listening to Turay's ranting, I almost expected to find a resignation in my messages from you."

Jean-Luc did smile at that. "Why would I allow the poor behavior of others to influence my career that way?"

"I note from your logs that Commander Troi was injured while you were recovering the crew of the _Farragut_. Is she all right?"

"She's on limited duty at the moment. Supervising the first cadet training for the current crop, with Mr. deLio's assistance. They have a lot of work to do."

"I see. Give her my greetings. I don't believe you will need to appear, should the issue with Turay turn into an official investigation, but I may contact you for a statement."

"Anything you need, you only have to ask, Admiral."

Adira nodded, and the monitor flicked to the United Federation of Planets insignia. Jean-Luc leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

The annunciator startled him out of a light meditation. "Come."

A cadet strolled in. After a few seconds he recognized the broad-shouldered young man, and grinned back at him. Rising, he came around the desk and reached out to shake Kenny's hand.

"Hi, Uncle Captain."

"Come have a seat. Tell me how you're doing."

"Well," Kenny began, as they went to sit down, "I did better in the simulation than the other folks on my team. I didn't try to hide, or run away, or totally lose it because we failed to keep the Asili from getting by us. I remembered everything you told me -- that's why I'm here, I wanted to thank you for the advice."

"I do get your messages, you know."

"I know, sir," Kenny said, laughing. "I learned the hard way not to tell people you answered them, too. I mean, even the instructors -- it made it harder with the ones I told. Anyway, I'm just saying, I wanted to thank you in person. Commander Troi told me to come talk to you, when I asked her about making an appointment."

Jean-Luc frowned. "What do you mean, made it harder?"

Kenny had an expression that reminded him of Geordi, when he'd had the awkward conversation with him. "Well...."

"They thought you were name dropping?"

Kenny blushed a little. "Well, yes. A few cadets even got a little upset with me. Even if I explained I grew up here, because my parents work here. Jealous, I guess. But who cares, anyway? The advice you gave me, I did so much better with things like not letting girls distract me, and sure I had a few girlfriends but you were right, the grades were really important, it helped me make the cut to be considered for this placement. Everyone wants their training cruise to be on the _Enterprise_ , and I knew I wasn't going to get it just because I knew you, so I didn't even bother to ask you for it. Mom said she was so proud when Commander Troi told her."

"I'm quite proud of you, as well. It's good to see you home again."

Kenny grinned, reminding Jean-Luc of the five year old boy he'd met years before, on the holodeck in a Christmas party for the children. "It's great to be home."

He talked for a little longer, about some of his adventures at the Academy including a wild weekend in France with some of his friends, and then excused himself -- Jean-Luc extracted a promise of coming to dinner with his parents, sometime soon. And then the boy left him alone in the ready room again, to remember how disbelieving Deanna had been that he would willingly spend time with children, how the continued relationship with the little boy had later become a sort of mentoring project, as Kenny got older and decided he wanted to be a starship captain like his "uncle." 

He was still smiling to himself when Corey showed up. "You look like you're thinking about pretty girls and younger days," Corey exclaimed as he sat down.

"Half right, anyway. Are you all right?"

Corey looked like he had over bourbon, in the bar on the starbase -- sad, perhaps a bit regretful. "To tell you the truth, I've been thinking a lot about what a coward I've been. It's your fault I'm thinking this way, you know."

"I suppose I should know better than to marry some beautiful woman half my age? I'm sorry I didn't consider your feelings before I made such a horrible mistake."

They were laughing together when Deanna arrived, and she hesitated as Corey noticed her and laughed harder, briefly. Her questioning gaze shifted to Jean-Luc.

"If you want to get away from this sarcastic asshole, my dear, just call me," Corey said at last. 

"How tempting. I'm not sure I have what it would take, however." She sank into her usual chair. "And I like older men."

"Dee," Jean-Luc growled, trying not to grin. There was a whole four months' difference in their ages.

"And while the children seem to like you, I'm not convinced it would be the best for them."

"I suppose I'll have to settle for adopted uncle, then."

Deanna turned a fond smile on Jean-Luc. "How was your chat with the admiral?"

"He seemed concerned that I might resign, after finding out what Moreno was up to and the tempest in a teakettle that resulted -- Turay is having a fit, apparently I'm a raving dictator with delusions of godhood according to Moreno, and Adira can't understand what they're frothing at the mouth about."

Another apologetic expression from Corey -- he clearly had not enjoyed being asked to do what he likely thought of as criticizing them. He glanced from Jean-Luc to Deanna, and seemed about to speak.

Deanna made a face and said a few choice words in Romulan.

"Was that Romulan? How many languages does this woman speak?"

Jean-Luc thought about that. "I don't even know that any more."

"It depends on how you decide what fluency is. French -- "

" -- with a horrible Betazoid accent," Jean-Luc put in.

"Which sounds so much better than Klingon with a French accent."

"You're both making it difficult to mope," Corey said.

Deanna looked at him with a faint smile. It was highly probable that she'd been swearing about it in response to Corey's regret, as a distraction. Jean-Luc smirked. "She does that quite well," he said softly. 

"I'm sure that's why he keeps me around. That and I know where he buries the bodies." She shot a sly look at Jean-Luc.

"I don't suppose you have a twin sister?"

"You wouldn't put up with her. She snores like a targ."

Deanna sighed, put a padd on his desk, and stood up. "I can sense oncoming whiskey shots and bluster for light years, so I'll just go -- perhaps I should throw caution to the wind, go to the arboretum and take off all my clothes and lay in the grass with a rose between my teeth."

"Oh, she does that every day," Jean-Luc told Corey, to counter the delighted light in his eyes at the thought.

"Before you pull out the whiskey remember what happened yesterday," she said as she left the ready room.

"She's right. Might be another red alert five minutes from now," Jean-Luc said. 

Now Corey was smiling, without the mischief or the mirth. He seemed to be thinking happier thoughts. "You know, I don't want to say that I'm glad I lost my ship, or that people were hurt. But I am glad I landed here anyway, despite not wanting to come when you invited me. I didn't expect to enjoy this as much as I did. Thanks, Johnny."

"You're welcome any time, Corey."


	17. Chapter 17

Yves ran through the jungle, following the lost boys, laughing -- sometimes it was easier to be on the holodeck. The characters didn't have any emotions to muddle things. 

He reached the clearing where the adults were hanging out. His parents, Kathryn, Geordi, and some woman whose name was Susan that Geordi had brought with him -- Natalia was around but participating in the game, somewhere with the twins, he thought, judging from the locations of the people he sensed. 

Papa was feeling good, teasing his friends, from the way everyone was feeling. He glanced at Yves and grinned, but turned to Maman and commented on something that made her giggle.

Yves turned around and followed the lost boys into the trees, leaping over some roots and dodging around a boulder. There would be a point where he'd find Peter and get himself some pixie dust. Flying was fun.

When he got to the treehouse, he saw that Nina was in the swing, being pushed by a laughing Peter Pan, and Rosalind and Amy were climbing in the branches with the monkeys. One of the lost boys had a ball. 

"Come on, Yves," another boy cried, and he held up his hands to catch the ball then threw it to one of the other boys. He grinned, as the game evolved into keep-away and they ran off together through the trees.

\------------------

"I finally heard from Bokaryov," Deanna said, apropos of nothing. They were sitting in their living room, having gotten all the kids to bed early after they'd run riot for three hours with Peter Pan and some pirates. Geordi's lovely friend Susan seemed quite comfortable snugged up in his arm as they sat on the end of the couch. Kathryn had dragged one of the chairs from the table in the corner and sat facing the two couples on the couch. They had been talking about old adventures, on the previous _Enterprise_. Jean-Luc thought that Geordi might be making the adjustment, finally, as he'd referenced one of the times Lwaxana came aboard.

"You mean the officer we were told would actually be conducting the evaluation? Did someone stuff him in a locker on deck twenty-six?"

"He was delayed in transit. He finally arrived at the starbase today and he'll be coming aboard tomorrow." Deanna shook her head and looked at Susan. "You haven't lived through this sort of thing yet. Don't be too nervous based on anything we say. You're not his first officer."

"I'm not really worried about it." Susan smiled serenely -- she had a lovely smooth coffee-colored complexion and faint forehead ridges consistent with Haliian ancestry. She was wearing a red dress that complemented her skin well, but she was a lieutenant-commander by day, in security, second in command to Geordi's security chief. 

"We've talked about that, a lot," Geordi said. "I had a lot of ideas, based on just being aboard while you -- you know."

"I think Geordi may have an idea we might have had sex once or twice," Jean-Luc said, as if breaking the news to Deanna. "We must have been too careless."

Deanna smirked at Geordi, who was staring at them in dismay. "Well, we'll have to remember that -- no more sex in engineering."

Susan started giggling and shoved Geordi. "You're silly. Why are you so anxious?"

"This is Captain Picard. He's not -- "

When Geordi couldn't continue, Deanna filled in. "Captain Picard isn't comfortable talking or teasing about sexuality, in any context."

"If that were true, what was the past few days of banter with Corey Zweller about?" Kathryn exclaimed. She grinned like a fiend. "That man flirts like a pro. Hard to imagine you were ever friends with him, Jean-Luc. You have a much subtler approach."

Geordi seemed to be having difficulty with the implication that Kathryn knew what Jean-Luc flirting with someone was like, so Jean-Luc sucked it up and stepped into the breach. "Corey also had a lot of difficulty with what I am now, because it wasn't what I was, then. But part of the problem lies with how I got to this point. Evolving from a young man too interested in transient sensual pleasures to an officer determined to avoid any hint of impropriety on duty, to -- what the hell are you laughing about?"

Deanna tried to stop giggling. "You're demonstrating how much of a transition it's been, sitting here with officers in a completely informal setting, out of uniform, and incapable of saying the word sex when you're not joking around. You can't even have a conversation about it in abstract terms, with friends. Part of the problem being you've just met Susan, and you feel an attraction but haven't got any real relationship with her yet to know how she'll handle -- oh, I'm sorry, Susan," she exclaimed, turning half around to address the blushing woman. "You don't know me yet, either. I shouldn't have done that."

"She means, Susan, that Deanna knows exactly when anyone feels anything. Empathy is apparently a blessing and a curse, and not something she can turn off, unlike telepathy." Kathryn had a rueful smile thinking about it. "It's difficult to get used to. I suppose Jean-Luc doesn't bother to even think about it, any more, when he meets a pretty woman. Which is interesting -- how you could be comfortable with that but completely incapable of talking openly."

"I didn't even think about it. She's right, Deanna has to know if -- "

"When," Jean-Luc corrected Geordi, as he was again incapable of finishing the thought. "A basic thing, for us, feeling a physical attraction for someone. So common that we each form a strategy for how to deal with it while simultaneously trying to be professionals. I turned a blind eye to my own feelings consistently enough, for long enough, that it took being assimilated by the Borg to give the counselor enough traction to make the point that was a mistake. Don't start," he said, holding up a finger when she opened her mouth to rebut. "I know you think I was being a client earlier than that. But you said yourself, not so long ago, that it wasn't until I'd started to see you as a friend, after seeing you for a while as an officer, that I started to actually be open in counseling. I didn't start doing real work until I needed real therapy."

"I'm impressed that you finally figured out the difference," Deanna said archly.

Susan made a disbelieving noise, and seemed to be working it through. "I get what you're saying, sir," she said, proving she too was still on the other side of the struggle to see him as something other than the Great Captain Picard. "I've known officers all my life -- my father was a lot like that. He had a lot of difficulty being anything but an officer, actually. The house was run almost to regulation. Mom used to joke about inspections and promotions. It was like having another context to live in wasn't possible for him. But I can't help thinking that he'd never spend time around someone who could sense everything he felt, so that you've been with Deanna for so long and not had difficulty with it doesn't make sense to me."

"I can't claim I haven't had difficulty. Just that I managed to make peace with the idea, since she only says anything in the company of people I wouldn't have issues knowing such things about me."

Kathryn stifled another laugh. "You wouldn't have an objection maybe. You still have plenty of issues. If you weren't easy to embarrass you'd be no fun at all to tease."

"Another thing I had to make peace with. Deanna teases without mercy, at times." He grinned at her. 

"It breeds true -- Yves has a gift for it," Kathryn said. "Your sarcasm, and her fondness for slapstick and practical jokes, in one small boy. What an amazing young man he is."

"You're not helping, and neither is Corey -- he's started asking me questions about all the things Corey told him."

Deanna sighed, taking his hand where it lay on the couch between them. "Are you irritated that Corey lied, or that he told the truth?"

Jean-Luc laughed about that. "I'm sure he told a version of the truth. Somewhere along the way Yves would have sensed it if he lied. One of the other problems with empaths, that also breeds true."

Susan had a confused look on her face, while they were talking about Yves, but the next thing she said proved she hadn't been tracking the conversation. "You were assimilated by the Borg?"

Jean-Luc took a moment to recover from it. "That's it -- you're keeping her. I like her."

Geordi laughed, and laughed, hands spread open to the heavens as if appealing for mercy. "Okay, I suppose I'll just say 'yes sir' and roll with it."

"We could keep her, if you decide not to," Jean-Luc added, smirking.

"Although you might want to find out before you move in whether he's looking for an officer, a babysitter, or a second wife," Deanna said. She sounded as innocent as she wasn't. 

"The traditional Betazoid family model was four, I believe," Jean-Luc said. "Yves was just asking the other day where your other spouses were -- he'd adjust to having Geordi around all the time, I'm sure."

"Uhhh...." Poor Geordi.

Deanna raised an eyebrow at Jean-Luc. "It would seem convincing, if you weren't laughing like a maniac behind that facade," she told Jean-Luc. It lead, of course, to everyone laughing at them. 

Until, after a few minutes, Jean-Luc noticed Deanna stop -- her head turned, and her expression changed. Her growing concern registered with their friends, at last, and their smiles dwindled.

"Please tell me it's not a red alert," Jean-Luc said at last.

"I can't tell. I don't think -- " She sprang from the couch and ran into the kids' rooms, and for a few tense moments Jean-Luc battled with relief that it was only a kid issue, and growing concern that she'd been so alarmed as to not be able to articulate it before she ran from the room. And then a piercing scream brought everyone to their feet.

Kathryn was in motion right along with Jean-Luc, crowding him as they hurried through the door into the hall, and went first to Yves' door -- the other children were crowding together in the hall, wide-eyed, the twins actually in tears.  
The scene turned both of the adults into statues. Deanna was on the floor, leaning against the end of Yves' bed in front of the closet, her hands over her face and her body trembling from head to toe -- she seemed to be trying to catch her breath. Yves gave them no clues. He stood frozen in place looking down at her, scared to a wide-eyed, open-mouthed, pale stupor.

Jean-Luc had to take a few breaths himself -- the overwhelming wave of panic that had swept over him was subsiding, but he felt nearly as shaken as she looked. Words weren't coming to him.

"What happened?" Kathryn's question had the slightly-harsh, displeased commanding officer tone to it.

Deanna waved one hand in the direction of the closet. Jean-Luc stepped forward, leaned to look, and nearly jumped back himself at seeing movement -- then he realized it was a mirror. The one that had hung on the wall next to Yves' dresser, in fact. 

A number of things occurred to him then, and as he recovered somewhat from the second-hand terror, he turned to Kathryn. "Yves was thinking of something frightening, to draw her in here, and when he indicated he was afraid of something in the closet she looked and saw movement in there. He's put his mirror in the back of it."

Kathryn's horrified expression triggered inspiration. Jean-Luc sighed heavily, forestalling whatever she was about to say. "I suppose I should take her to sickbay."

"Why?" Yves blurted. From his expression, he was so overwhelmed with his own shock at his mother's reaction that he sensed nothing of his father's.

"The Betazoid Shock Reflex. Last time she had a shock like this it took six months for her to come out of the coma."

Yves wasn't even registering Jean-Luc's calm tone -- he threw himself at his mother, grabbing her arm, shaking it hard. Deanna had meanwhile gone limp, so Yves was shaking harder, trying to get a reaction, and starting to cry.

"Yves."

He didn't seem to hear his father. Kathryn had covered her mouth with her hand and watched silently.

"Yves!"

Deanna sat up abruptly. Yves leaped backward, sprawling, giving a shriek of terror. She glared at him. 

"Put the mirror back where it belongs and go to bed!" Jean-Luc bellowed. When Yves didn't move, he added "NOW!"

Yves levitated off the floor and scrambled into the closet. He didn't immediately come back out.

Jean-Luc held out a hand, pulled Deanna to her feet, and guided Kathryn in front of them out of the room. He glared down the hall, sending the rest of the kids scrambling back to bed. 

Geordi and Susan waited on the couch as they reappeared, in suspense. "Everything okay?" Geordi asked.

"I think Yves might have figured out he's never going to outsmart his father," Kathryn said, her quiet statement brimming with wry amusement.

Deanna put her hand to her side, wincing, and Jean-Luc remembered then that she still had sore ribs -- a second pass with the deep tissue regenerator earlier in the afternoon had continued the healing process, but falling as she had likely strained the injury again. 

"If you haven't departed before lunch, please come back to spend it with us," he said.

Their guests heard the implied message, and departed with quiet reassurances that they would return. Kathryn gave Deanna a careful hug and got a muttered reassurance that she would be all right.

Once in their bedroom, Jean-Luc sat down with her on the end of the bed, and put his arm on her shoulders. "I'm sorry."

Exhaling, exasperated, Deanna hid her face in her hands. "Why?"

"I should have told Corey never to tell Yves things like that."

Now she sat up straight, turning her head to look at him. "What the hell are you saying?"

"He told Yves stories -- the mirror trick was something we did in the dorm, to some cadets who were -- "

"You're saying our son used a prank you came up with to scare me into next year," she blurted angrily. Then she took a deep, deep breath, exhaled, and wilted a little. "I can't even keep feeling angry at him. It really was nearly a perfect prank -- even if I nearly called a red alert."

"Especially then. I've seen you face worse with a much calmer demeanor." Jean-Luc smiled at it, a little. 

"He thought it was going to be funny. He didn't expect the officer's reflexes to combine with maternal instinct -- the first thing in my mind was to protect him from the alien presence in the closet."

"The first thing after the terror and panic?"

"Part of that was not sensing anything -- he actually manufactured fear, to get me in there, and I didn't sense anything alien. Of course I leaped to assume it was like what we'd had before -- and he doesn't know how many alien non-corporeal life forms we've dealt with, or how serious that can be. Because we've never told him, because we didn't want to scare him."

"I think I'm going to tell him." Jean-Luc pulled her close and kissed her forehead. She appeared to be calm, for the most part. "Get ready for bed?"

"Yes. The adrenalin crash is almost here."

He left her to change, and returned to the scene of the crime. Yves wasn't in the bed, nor visible in the room. Jean-Luc saw then his feet sticking out of the open closet. Sighing, he sat on the end of the bed and gestured with his finger to come.

Slowly, Yves crawled out of the closet, dragged himself to his feet, and wobbled over to sit with his father. His shoulders rolled forward, he looked completely defeated.

"I know you didn't intend to frighten her that way," Jean-Luc said.

When Yves didn't move, he felt a sadness and regret that twisted in his gut. Jean-Luc put a hand on the back of his son's head, and brought him close, putting his arm around him.

"Yves, there is a big, big difference between scaring a twenty-year-old cadet, and sending a seasoned officer into a panic because she thinks a noncorporeal alien entity is about to get her child."

Yves pulled his legs up and rolled against his father with an odd little whimper. It occurred to Jean-Luc that his reaction to the joke had been overkill. When he wrapped his arms around Yves, he realized the boy was really crying, for the first time in a long time.

Deanna interrupted the mutual misery by arriving quietly, wrapped in her green robe, looking exhausted. She dropped to her knees on the floor in front of them. "Yves. Come here."

Jean-Luc let go, and Yves unfolded, slid bonelessly to the floor, and leaned into his mother's arms. She accepted his weight and held his head to her shoulder for a while, a few tears on her own face. After a while they parted and sat together. She held his head in her hands.

"I know you only wanted to play a game, like your father. I know you want us all to be happy, and have fun together. I know you didn't understand what you were really doing. It's okay."

"Maman -- "

The tear-laden beginning of a confession of guilt didn't go very far. Deanna smiled at him, and Jean-Luc knew what she was doing -- he caught the edge of the wave of an empath projecting her love for her terrified, guilt-ridden boy, and saw it wash the pain from Yves' face. 

"Okay," Yves whispered. 

"Go to bed." Deanna reached, and Jean-Luc caught her hand to brace her while she raised herself slowly off the floor.

"From now on, little jokes. Nothing involving closets. All right?" Jean-Luc smiled, hoping it was enough encouragement that their son didn't totally lose his sense of humor.

"Okay." Yves' smile wavered a little, but seemed genuine.

They left him there, returned to their bed, and once they were under the covers and the lights out, Jean-Luc discovered that he, too, was completely exhausted. For the first time in memory he fell asleep almost at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stopped practicing martial arts and started yoga, after I nearly hit somebody in the supermarket when I didn't hear them until they were right behind me.
> 
> There is something about training until certain movements and a certain mindset are second nature, ingrained in you like instinct, that can make certain experiences feel less trivial.


	18. Chapter 18

Yves pulled on the other shoe, and sat quietly for a moment. He still felt tired, though he'd slept soundly. He wished he could stay home from school. He looked up when Papa came in.

"You're okay?"

"Yes, Papa." 

Papa sat next to him, dropping his hand on the back of Yves' head. "I wanted to say -- "

Yves waited, the weight of Papa's hand on the back of his neck.

"I was angry. I was furious -- I spend my days watching your mother do her work. Some days, it means she gets hurt. She's still recuperating, you know. When she gets hurt, I know, in my head, that it isn't my fault. And I get home, and I know she doesn't blame me at all, because she chooses to do the work she does, and she really would rather get hurt than for anyone else aboard to die. But -- "

Yves let tears fall down his face, and stared at the floor, letting Papa work through it until he could finish.

"I'm the captain. And she gets hurt because I expect her to, instead of saving herself and getting all of us killed, or some of us. And at the end of the day, I try to make things better for her, because it hurts that she's hurt. And you -- "

"I hurt her," Yves whispered.

"It was not your fault. It was not your intention. It was most certainly not anything I will hold against you, Yves." The hand slid from his head to his shoulder. "I was angry, and I made up a fake condition to scare you even more than you already were, because I was so incredibly upset that she -- "

When Papa got hung up again, Yves leaned until his head bumped Papa's shoulder. "When we're so emotional we can't think at all, we make really stupid decisions. I was feeling so great yesterday -- we were all laughing and running around on the holodeck -- I was thinking about Captain Zweller and all the funny things you used to do together, and I really wanted to try one, and he said it was the best one. And it was a really stupid decision."

Papa had a weird smile, and a funny, happy, somewhat embarrassed kind of mood. "Your mother has over-educated you in these matters."

"Neither of us were thinking really clearly last night."

"So we're all right?"

Yves grinned. "No one's in a coma."

"You are not me. You are the best of me," Papa said quietly, holding Yves against him. "You will be better, than me. Because you are also the best of your mother."

Yves floated for a while, grinning, eyes closed, until the sound of Kathryn calling Ros shook them out of it. He sat up and thought about what Captain Zweller had said about his Papa when they were at the Academy.

"Does Captain Zweller know you really well?"

Papa had been preparing to rise from the bed and that led him to settle back again and look at him seriously. The joy dwindled away. "He used to -- he knows me a little, now that he spent time with us."

"Are you really different than you were at the Academy?"

It was amusing, in a difficult way -- Papa seemed embarrassed, but only a bit. For a moment Yves thought he was going to get a reassurance and no real answer, as he had sometimes when Papa felt this way. But Papa surprised him.

"When I went to the Academy, I wanted to be as far away from my father in any way that I could. I wanted to be nothing at all like him. I wanted to be an officer, explore the galaxy, and above all I wanted to experience life to the fullest. I didn't want to be trapped in an old, dusty house getting old. Sometimes, when we want so much to be different, we do the easy thing -- we deny difficult things, difficult feelings, and do the opposite as hard as we possibly can, trying to convince ourselves that we're actually different. I did enjoy a lot of things I did. But I was blinded by my anger at my father, for daring to expect me to be ordinary, that he expected me to be something I hated solely because it was what he wanted. I made so many mistakes when I was like that. It took years for me to really change, in my heart. To find who I really was, instead of pretending to be what I thought I wanted."

"You didn't love your dad?"

Yves regretted saying it, as Papa's immediate response was a shrinking, sinking feeling of pain. But he sighed. "I did, Yves. It's why his anger and his expectations were so powerful. Why I reacted so strongly to him. Parents have a profound impact on children."

"So you're afraid you'll hurt me because your father hurt you because he loved you."

Papa's head tilted and his eyes rolled up and stuck there. "Not exactly what I said."

"But you said -- "

"Ask your mother, after school," Papa said, rising and heading for the door, walking that way he did when he was in a hurry to not be somewhere.

Yves joined his siblings, and Kathryn, in the living room. "Maman's already gone?"

"Yeah. Is it okay?" Amy asked.

"Yeah." Yves walked with Kathryn, as they all started out the door for school. 

"I guess the joke didn't go very well," Ros commented on the way to the lift. 

"Nope."

"Maybe we shouldn't talk about that," Kathryn said gently.

"You should try the one Captain Zweller said -- "

"Rosalind," Kathryn said in the 'mom' voice. 

Yves wished he was telepathic, sometimes. But today, he wished he knew how to back up a day and fix something.

\----------------

Jean-Luc strolled into quarters and across the room to the table, where Deanna sat with Kathryn and Susan. Deanna turned and smiled at him, and then at his shadow. "Hello, Naomi."

"Hi, Commander."

"I would suppose the captain has a reason to have you somewhere other than school?"

"My teacher is giving me credit for working on projects for the captain," Naomi said proudly. "Today I'm collecting information to write a report on efficient communication between officers."

Deanna hid most of the amusement she felt. "I wonder what led you to decide to study such a thing."

Jean-Luc watched the girl make a note on her padd. "Why don't you go back to school for lunch and resume your project in the morning?"

"Okay -- I mean, yes, sir," Naomi said, grinning. She came to attention, tucking her padd behind her back, and he realized he'd forgotten protocol.

"Dismissed." 

Naomi strode from the room at an efficient clip and as the door closed Susan began to giggle. "What a precious little girl."

"Naomi is the captain's assistant," Kathryn said. "She was mine, for a little while, and when her mother joined her father aboard the _Enterprise_ Jean-Luc inherited her services."

"I've never heard of a captain's assistant."

Deanna got up to head for the replicator. "It's not an official designation. Naomi decided to be one all on her own."

"Where's Geordi?" Jean-Luc thought about what he wanted for lunch, and Deanna proved she was paying attention by asking for it, as well as her own soup and bread. 

"Oh, you know, captain-y things," Kathryn exclaimed with a grin.

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow at that. "Is that what it's called?"

"I'm beginning to see why Yves is such an intellectual."

Deanna brought a tray to the table and set out his food in front of an empty chair, which he sat down in. She sat next to him, giving him a look of warning, as he found himself imagining her in something other than the uniform she wore. She turned to Kathryn. "I think reading Chaucer and technical reports to the children had more to do with that. I'm not sure who went to sleep faster, the children or me."

"It seemed better to me than reading them abstracts from one of your psychology journals."

Geordi arrived as Susan took her turn at the replicator. "I had a message from Command. Guess we're leaving tomorrow."

"Well, then, I suppose we'll have time for lunch. Perhaps dinner, perhaps in Paris?" Jean-Luc took a bite of his pasta. 

"Sounds nice." Geordi brought a sandwich and a glass of some beverage to sit between Susan and Kathryn. "So, what happened last night?"

"In summary? Corey told Yves about pranks we played, on other cadets back in the day. He decided it would be funny to scare his mother." Jean-Luc sipped his tea. 

"Okay, but that's the tone you always take when you summarize things you don't want to talk about."

"And that's the face you make when you get caught," Deanna said, grinning at him, nudging him with her elbow. "You wanted Geordi to see you as a friend. You don't get to back off now."

Jean-Luc glared at her. "He put a mirror in his closet."

Geordi thought about it, his smile broadening. "This was something you did as a cadet? I can see it -- that's pretty evil."

"Not something you want to do to someone who spends most of her waking hours ready to do battle -- or who's been possessed by alien entities, or faced down -- "

"He knows, Jean. He was there for a lot of it." Deanna shook her head and grimaced. "It hit every hot button I have. I was on the verge of calling security, calling a red alert, but I was so overcome with the shock -- I suppose that's a good thing, in the end. I shoved Yves away from the closet when I jumped back -- the way he was surprised by my reaction was what made me hesitate."

"Yeah, I guess I can see why it was...." Geordi frowned. "Poor kid."

"He's fine," Jean-Luc said, thinking about his talk with Yves. "A bit shaken, still. I think he understands."

"What did you tell him, this morning?" Deanna asked.

Kathryn was gazing at him as if she'd been wanting to ask the same question. He sighed. "I told him why I reacted the way I did, to what he did. Because I wanted him to know it wasn't because of him."

"Wait, you reacted to what Yves did but not because of what he did?" Geordi asked.

Deanna smiled at Geordi. "You'll get used to this. He does this."

"Does what?" Jean-Luc exclaimed, frowning, putting down his fork.

"Just finish the thought."

Jean-Luc stared at her.

"Do you want me to just look for it myself?" she asked, a sarcastic bend in her lip.

"I told him that I was angry and vindictive because what he did hurt you."

"Oh, Jean-Luc," Kathryn exclaimed, clearly disapproving.

"Not like that. Stop it. Not what I meant. It's not about rationally deciding anything. There's a part of me that feels responsible, whenever an officer gets hurt -- especially if my orders put them at risk. I know, and I accept, that Deanna only does her duty, and if she's hurt it's not my fault, and she would never blame me."

Now their three guests were looking across the table at him, their food forgotten for the moment. Geordi had an expression that said he understood it.

"I don't have feelings, during the day, on duty. I don't allow them to affect me. I don't allow myself to be aware of them. I come home, and she's hurt -- and I feel the hurt, plus some of my own because I can't just throw the captain out the window at the end of the day. It's not just what we do, it's what we are. But I have to take care of her -- do not look like that."

Deanna snorted, a wry smile disrupting her fond, affectionate expression that usually accompanied pride whenever he started talking about his feelings openly. "Sorry -- sir."

"Should I start swearing at you, or can I speak?"

"No, no, finish. You're -- " Deanna shut her mouth and picked up her soup spoon, refraining.

"This is Deanna, trying not to channel Counselor Troi. Damn her." Jean-Luc took a breath and refocused. 

"Geordi said she was your counselor, before," Susan said.

"Well, yes." Jean-Luc thought about saying it, and refrained -- jokes about rubbing off on each other would only distract him. 

"Before you distracted yourself you were explaining why you were not angry at Yves but took it out on him anyway," Kathryn said.

"He frightened her, I felt overwhelmed by her fear, and I reacted the way anyone would, out of instinct. I wanted to protect her."

Kathryn blinked and gave him a flat expression of cluelessness.

Deanna sighed. "His instinct is usually to outthink the enemy. Target the assailant with his own weapon is a popular choice."

"So he reacted the way Captain Picard would," Geordi said. "Like you reacted the way the first officer would, and a mother."

"So, not like anyone would, in a way. I think I would have called for a medical team," Susan said. "Nothing obvious in the way of a threat but an officer down. And then more security, to do a search. You said you felt what she felt?" Susan's question demonstrated how little Geordi had told her.

"Betazoids sometimes form two-way bonds with spouses," Deanna said. "It makes so many things more interesting."

"I'm having a bit of a headache, about the things you're telling me," Susan said. "She was your counselor -- not just the ship's counselor, but your therapist. She then became first officer, after you got married. And then you had kids -- Geordi told me about some of the circumstances in which you had them. And a Betazoid telepathic bond, too?"

"You make it sound so straightforward," Jean-Luc said.

"Whenever I talk to a friend who's married about their relationship it's usually where he proposed, where they went on the honeymoon -- why are you looking like that?" Susan exclaimed, gesturing at Deanna.

Jean-Luc had been trying not to smirk, but when he saw the way Deanna rolled her eyes, he debated between escaping to the bridge and just crawling behind the couch.

"There was a string quartet," he said, hoping she would see a joint lie as acceptable at this time.

"The wind howling across the protective environmental dome over the gigantic pit full of silt, dirt, and rock," Deanna intoned. Kathryn was actually leaning in, fascinated, smiling in anticipation. Geordi looked like he might join Jean-Luc in an escape pod shortly.

Susan, of course, waited for the rest of the story. "Environmental dome?"

Deanna looked at Jean-Luc as if waiting for him to explain.

"It isn't easy to explain," he said.

"Has there been anything about us that ever has been?"

"Welcome to my life. There's this thing about being in Starfleet, no one believes you when you talk about your life."

Geordi smiled at that. "Susan hasn't experienced the things you have, by a long shot. She's been in service for about ten years."

"Have you told her a lot about what you've been through, Geordi?" Deanna asked.

He looked at Susan, and his smile turned apologetic. "I guess there are a few things I haven't told you. Yet."

"It's all right," she said, with a smile that looked a lot like Deanna's in some respects. "I know you'll tell me sometime. I just want to hear about their story, now. Was it the proposal or the wedding that you held in the mud pit?"

"It wasn't so bad as all that," Jean-Luc exclaimed, embarrassed.

"No, it sounds bad, but it wasn't. You have to understand something about him -- he really is a romantic. He's just really terrible at it by conventional standards."

"Oh, good God," Jean-Luc said with a sigh, rolling his eyes, putting a hand on his forehead.

"So which was it?"

Geordi grinned. "The wedding was in a holodeck, so it had to be the proposal. Zanzibar, right?"

"Zanzibar?" Kathryn exclaimed, disbelieving, scoffing. "Oh, Jean-Luc, couldn't you take the lady somewhere with a breathable atmosphere?"

"I didn't take her with me. I went to participate in a dig -- she insisted that I take a damn vacation."

Kathryn waited with crossed arms, waiting for the rest of it. Geordi just grinned. 

"She followed me. Because she found out someone I used to know -- "

"Someone female, of course. She knew him pretty well." Deanna was matter of fact about it, but it didn't help. "And it wasn't just that -- there was a Romulan spy along for the expedition. That's what I worried about."

"She didn't tell me anything about the Romulan. She waited until he tipped his hand and stunned him."

"You proposed to her on a mudball because she saved your life. Got it." But Kathryn wasn't approving of it.

"Not exactly," Deanna said. She smiled serenely. "It's never about location, or window dressings."

"It was just the logical thing to do at the time," Jean-Luc managed.

Deanna eyed him speculatively. "It was, but they're not going to see it without more context."

"I suppose Kathryn's right, and we should just write that autobiography."

"Why? We can just continue confusing everyone. It's worked so far."

Jean-Luc smiled at Susan. "She's leaving out that she sent me on this vacation because she knows how much I enjoy archaeology. It wasn't at all the kind of thing she enjoyed doing herself. When she got there she was staying to protect me, without telling me she was doing it. So I could focus on enjoying the dig, instead of taking her home."

"I suspected something might happen. I didn't know for certain -- why would I disrupt the first real vacation you'd had in years on a guess?"

"I'm not hearing anything about this proposal you claim happened," Kathryn exclaimed.

Deanna looked at him, and when he didn't seem able, she gave him a nod. "I was standing there covered with dirt, my wrist was broken, and I just shot the Romulan a bit before -- he told me -- "

"I asked," he corrected.

"You ordered me to say yes."

Jean-Luc put up both hands as if trying to fend off the glaring. "It wasn't like that!"

"It really wasn't -- I wouldn't have married him otherwise."

"This is what I was trying to tell you," Geordi said. "A lot of this stuff, you just had to be there. That sounds like one of those things."

Deanna was smiling at Jean-Luc, quite pleased with him. "It sounds just like it. I had to be there."

"Yes. And I'm glad you stayed there."

"On Zanzibar?" Susan asked.

"He's not talking about that kind of place." Deanna had the glow, again, looking at him.

"We have our own context," Jean-Luc said, smiling at her. 

Susan turned her bright smile on Geordi. "You make perfect sense to me."

Discussion turned to casual chatter, and finally their guests departed. Deanna recycled dishes to clear the table with his help, and turned to find him standing in her path. He caught her in his arms.

"I never know quite what to say, when it comes up," she murmured. 

"I think you enjoy shocking people a little. Or embarrassing me."

Her eyes lost some of the humor. "Does it embarrass you?"

"I suppose that, too, is difficult to explain. You know I have difficulty sharing some things with others, even our friends."

"Because it's that important to you," she murmured. "I know. You don't have to do it. I was a little surprised that you tried."

"I know it's one of those things, with friends, sharing stories. I guess I just feel like what I did is just so different that -- "

Jean-Luc could feel her laughing before she started to chuckle. Deanna pulled him close and he felt her lips against the side of his neck. "You're afraid you did things that made me feel like the odd one out? You think the daughter of Lwaxana Troi has no idea -- "

"Oh, I know, believe me. But isn't it different, with things like how you met, or the wedding? She seemed to expect -- "

Deanna pulled back and gave him such a look of insulted ire that he stopped talking. "Why do I want what everyone else has? I have exactly what I wanted. How do we keep having this conversation where you pretend you're depriving me of something I don't even miss?"

"I guess I'm stupid. Or thorough. Insecure?"

She sighed. "You're perfect."

"That's what it is -- I want things to stay perfect. No room for complacency."

"If you say so." She kissed him, and instead of letting it be the farewell she seemed to intend he leaned into it, sliding his hand up to the back of her head. 

When they parted, he wouldn't let her go.

"Jean-Luc, I love you too. But -- "

"You're sure Yves is okay?"

She hesitated, and he felt the slight shift of her attention away from him. "He still regrets doing it. It's what I would expect. He loves you, Jean-Luc, and it won't change."

"I got stuck again. He wanted to know about my father."

"So I suppose you'll explain it to him, some time. Go to work, Jean-Luc."

"Yes, ma'am."


	19. Chapter 19

Yves let everyone walk ahead of him and followed them toward the holodeck. Normally he would be up in the front with the teacher, but he didn't feel like talking today.

"Yves."

He turned around and saw his mother, and realized he hadn't even noticed her. "Maman?"

Maman looked at the teacher, nodded, and reached for him -- she turned and they walked together away from the class. "You've been doing a lot of thinking today."

For once, he didn't have words. He felt terrible -- as she spoke it all came back, the guilt and the fear, and Papa's anger, and the tears on his face were his own.

Maman hugged him, holding his head to her shoulder, and sighed. "This is what he does. Isn't it?"

Yves tried to blink away tears. "What?"

"You don't recognize all these feelings?"

"I... guess."

"It's what I do, too. I did something horrible, when I was about your age. I misinterpreted something I sensed, and reacted out of anger and hurt, and caused other people a lot of pain. I regret it even now -- not as much as I did then, of course. Your father has made a lot of mistakes, many of them with good intentions like yours. You thought it would be something we would all laugh at, and you hurt us in a way you didn't realize we would be hurt."

"I didn't...."

"He's worried about you. I think you've been preoccupied to the point you didn't notice."

Yves sighed and wrapped his arms around Maman's waist. 

"I need your help, Yves."

"You do?"

"I want my son back. You know the happy, smiling boy I mean?"

Yves let go, stood back, and rubbed his eyes. "Are you all right?"

Maman's dark eyes held confusion. "I'm back on duty. The doctor cleared me. Yves, you didn't hurt me physically -- I was frightened, I wanted to protect you, I thought it was some sort of intruder, but you weren't reacting the way you would have if it were really an alien. My reaction shocked you. And I knew you would have difficulty with this. I knew you would feel this way. It's very familiar to me. I've always lived with people who didn't understand my empathy, and I've always struggled with how much to reveal, how much to keep to myself, how to forget things I've sensed about people's responses to me. It's hard. What can I do to help you with this?"

He realized she was right, as thinking about this calmed his own feelings, settling his stomach, and he started to sense what she was feeling. 

"Did you think that you hurt me physically?"

"You fell down. I remember feeling your pain, when you broke your ribs."

Maman actually smiled as she touched his face. "That wasn't a problem, Yves. That isn't what your father meant -- he was being vague. I had my final regeneration cycle this morning, but I was fine yesterday. You didn't do any real damage. Being frightened that much was not pleasant but it wasn't damaging. Your father reacted the way he did because we all react out of instinct to sudden frightening things as if they will hurt us. Is that more understandable?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"As for your father's inability to talk about his father, that's nothing new. You've had the good fortune to have a father who is willing to be uncomfortable talking about things to help you. He didn't have that. If you want to talk to him about it try to pick a time when you're not supposed to go to school, all right?"

"Okay. I guess I should go join my class. Thanks, Maman."

\---------------

Jean-Luc left the shop on the main deck of the starbase, and carried the bag under his arm, heading toward the nearest bank of transporters. He heard Corey calling his name and turned back to watch the man catch up to him.

"I wondered where you'd got to," he exclaimed. "Everything all right?"

Corey looked a bit down, as he had the first time Jean-Luc had met him on the starbase. "Not really."

"This sounds like you need a drink."

Corey fell in step with him and they strolled along, other officers giving them a wide berth as they went. "No, but I'm wondering if you could give me a little advice."

"I've always found giving advice to be risky business."

Corey chortled but it was a pale version of the laughter Jean-Luc had heard from the man over the past couple of days. "They're scrapping my ship, of course. And I've been encouraged to accept a promotion. They won't say I'm too old, but I suppose I feel that way just thinking about getting another ship."

"I know it will sound trite, but what do you want to do?"

At that, Corey's smile faded. He gave his head a shake. "You know, if someone had asked me that a few days ago, I'd just take the promotion. But I keep wondering if there's a way.... Marriage has been good for you. I can see it. You'd probably be a hell of a lot like me, without Deanna."

"Well, yes, only I'd be better looking."

The attempt fell flat. For once, Corey was serious. He stopped walking, and Jean-Luc shifted the bag to his other arm and did the same. 

"Did you have anyone in mind?"

Corey smiled, a little. "I have no idea if she's even open to the possibility, but...."

"You should go talk to her then. And if she's not, well, it's a big galaxy and there are plenty of people in it. Taking a long leave and going traveling, and just meeting people.... I had a good time on Risa, once upon a time, and it might have been something more, under different circumstances. And there were others as far back as the Academy."

Corey's smile grew. "I think I might have to retire." He started walking again.

"It would be fun to go back to all the worlds I've been to, just to be a tourist, I think. We still might do that some day." Jean-Luc smiled at the thought. "Or you could find work in the civilian side of the Federation, somewhere. I'm sure there are dishes to be washed."

They laughed together at it, briefly. "How about a drink for the road?"

"Of course."

As they went through the door of a bar, Corey smirked at him. "You said you didn't give advice."

"Not talking to her is always the wrong option, Corey. That's the only sure way to turn possibility into certainty. There was a point that I could have just kept to myself, because I was absolutely positive she wouldn't feel the same for me. You saw how that worked out."

Corey nodded, his expression softening. "Yes. You are a lucky, lucky man, Jean-Luc."

Jean-Luc hesitated with a hand on the back of the chair he was about to pull away from the table. "Actually... you have just a hint of how lucky I really am," he said, grinning.

"Do tell," Corey challenged.

"That depends on how many drinks you buy me."


	20. Chapter 20

Yves came out of his last class to find Kathryn waiting for him. "I thought Papa was coming today."

"Apparently he's having a last visit with Captain Zweller. Your mother is getting the twins, Amy, Nina and Ros. What's that look about?"

"Sorry." He stared at the floor as they walked away from school, away from other parents going the opposite direction to get their kids. "I'm just starting to feel like everyone's ganging up on me."

"You do? I'm leaving tomorrow, so I was just thinking we might get another game of velocity in before then." Kathryn crossed her arms and walked slower. "Is there something wrong?"

"I guess not. I really don't feel like talking about it."

"Okay. Do you feel like playing velocity?"

"Sure."

They went to the holodecks and he tried to talk to her, answered questions about his homework -- he'd gotten a good grade on things she'd helped him with, and asked about the history essay he had completed about family history. But after they set up the holodeck with the game, she hesitated with the target disk in hand. 

"You're sure you don't want to talk?"

"I wish I could just stop doing things that bother my parents," he blurted. "Or that I don't have to sense when I do. I wish I could just be a kid." His legs folded under him, and he sat cross-legged with his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees.

Kathryn slowly lowered herself to sit with him on the floor, setting aside the target and her phaser. "Why do you think you bother them?"

He sat up and looked at her.

"Okay, fine. They're bothered by something. Is it really you doing it, though? There's nothing else it could be?"

"If I ask a question about his father, Papa gets upset. Anxious, frustrated, a little angry, a little irritated. I just wanted to know who my grandfather was. I'm almost afraid to ask Maman about Betazed, Grandma already told us she doesn't like being part of the Fifth House."

Kathryn smiled. "Ask me about my past."

He stared at her. "About... what?"

"Just something about my past. Do you ever ask anyone other than your parents about the past?"

"Oh. What was your father like?"

Kathryn was still smiling, but he could tell there was something sad about her when she responded. "He was an admiral. I loved him very much."

"But...."

"But I'm sad, because I was there when he died, and it was very difficult, for me and my mother, and my sister Phoebe. It was also difficult because the vessel we were in crashed, and I was injured as well. So I might be a little afraid. But I talked to a counselor about it, so I probably don't feel as upset about it as someone who never did."

Yves frowned. "Okay. But Papa used to talk to a counselor. Maman was his counselor, and then Counselor Davidson, and now there's a new one I haven't met yet."

"But he's not necessarily going to talk to any of them about his father. I think he may have focused on things that happened while he was an officer. Have they told you anything about those things? Things like your mother getting hurt, or when he goes on medical leave after an injury."

"They mention them sometimes. It's not the same."

"I imagine not."

"So I guess you're saying it's not me making them feel that way. Except they only feel that way when I remind them of those things."

"Or, I suppose, when something else reminds them. That seems to happen a lot, for me. I see or hear something that reminds me of it, and suddenly there it is."

Yves frowned again.

"This is really about what happened last night, isn't it?"

"I already heard it all from them," he said with an exasperated sigh.

"Then I won't repeat it. But I know it doesn't always feel like it's not your fault, even if there are reasons that it isn't. It can be the most ignorant mistake you've ever made, nothing you even imagined would happen, and if you love that person enough it will still feel like there should have been something you could have done to keep them from feeling the pain, or the fear, or the worry."

Yves closed his eyes. Finally, after trying to see how else it could have been, he sighed again. "That's how Papa feels when Maman gets hurt? It's not his fault. But he hurts with her, he said."

"It's how I felt, some of the time, when Chakotay gets hurt on a mission. But at some point we become accustomed to a little pain, because in spite of how much he's put your mother through, do you think she'd still be with your father if she found pain so difficult to handle?"

"Okay. So _now_ I've heard it all."

Kathryn grinned and leaned to slap his knee. "Let's play a game."

\-----------------------

Jean-Luc came home to empty quarters. He'd expected to find Cordelia and Pierre doing homework, and Amy making something, and Yves working on homework. But the living room was empty. He looked down at Fidele. The dog had just arrived from Earth, where he'd been thoroughly checked and his positronic network upgraded by Data, his creator. He'd even been given a new coat -- his russet-colored short hair looked vivid and plush again. He'd been a little threadbare here and there after years of being petted and hugged by the children.

"Looks like you'll have to wait for them all to come home."

Fidele wagged his tail. The artificial dog nodded once. "Would you care for a game of chess?"

"If we're left to ourselves, that would be fine. Let me check in here." Jean-Luc went through the office into the bedroom, starting to shed his uniform as he went.

Deanna was sitting at her dressing table, pulling a brush through her long hair slowly, and as he entered the room she looked over her right shoulder at him and smiled. 

"Oh, yes, dinner," he said, remembering that Geordi and Susan were supposed to meet them. "I should change."

"You should. We're going to the starbase. I talked to Susan, and we decided on a real restaurant -- it's a French restaurant. I hope it meets your standards."

"If it doesn't I'm sure the company will more than make up for it." 

"Kathryn has all the kids, on a holodeck. I believe the entertainment is Treevus and Flotter, this evening." 

He took the brush from her and began to do the work of pulling it through the length of her hair, sweeping it it to the left and beginning to bring the waves and curls into order. He noticed the shimmering bronze dress she wore had a low neckline in the front and an even lower one in the back. Her reflection regarded him with a serene contentment that he found encouraging. He found himself relaxing -- the effects of the alcohol he'd consumed with Corey was mostly gone, but he supposed he might have been looser than usual already. 

"I've been trying to decide on a necklace. How was your visit with Corey?"

"Bittersweet. He's likely to be retired soon. He's going to find Delphine, and see if she still feels the same for him."

"I hope she does. Perhaps he'll bring her for a visit." She held up a wide gold chain, and dropped it back in the drawer.

"Or maybe he'll find an interested young lady half his age."

"The amber?" He finished a second braid over her right ear, and held it together with the other one at the back of her head while she placed a comb adorned with a spray of translucent fibers that caught the light.

Jean-Luc ran his fingertips down her neck, down her shoulder, brushing them along Deanna's skin. When he leaned forward he caught the light, clean fragrance of one of her current favorite perfumes. 

"Should we let them know we will be late?" she whispered, responding to how he felt.

"No. Let me fasten it for you." 

She had chosen the amber necklace, and matching earrings. With them in place she applied a shade of dark bronze to her lips. Rising, she stepped into a pair of shoes waiting for her feet and smiled at him. 

"I'm not sure I have anything to match." 

"Of course you do. I'll help."

Jean-Luc ran a finger along the back hem on her dress, tickling the base of her spine. "I like this dress."

"Just like you liked all the others you've pulled off me?"

"I like what's inside it better."

"Let's see if you have some of those wonderful pants that almost fit you."

They sent Fidele along to the holodeck to be with the children on the way out, and reached the restaurant as Geordi and Susan arrived from the other direction. Susan had her hair down as well, and wore a dress the color of a sunset, in varying shades of orange to red. Geordi wore a red sweater and black pants, looking almost ordinary by comparison.

"We have a reservation," Deanna said as their friends joined them outside the door. "What a wonderful dress on you, Susan."

"I was about to say the same."

The restaurant was dimly-lit but located along the hull of the starbase, so the broad viewports overhead provided starlight and a view of whatever vessel happened to be passing at any given moment. Jean-Luc was pleased to note that the waiter was placing them at a corner table -- he could turn his back to the rest of the room and ignore people staring. 

"Jean-Luc can order for us, I think," Deanna said. "If you trust him."

"Why not? As long as it's not snails. I don't like Klingon food, either, if that helps," Susan said.

Jean-Luc ordered without looking at the menu, asking first about what was available. The waiter responded in French and went on about the dishes available, all mainly Provencal cuisine, and after a discussion went away to put in their order for _bouillabaisse, salade nicoise, baguette_ , and a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape wine, not having come to a conclusion on the main dish. 

"Evidently there's a nice lamb dish," Deanna said. "But he's debating between that and seafood."

"You're never quite sure where the seafood came from, on a starbase," Jean-Luc added.

Susan regarded him with a warm smile. "I love hearing fluent French. You don't hear languages other than Standard much any more."

"We should take you to France, you'll hear it everywhere," Jean-Luc said.

"So what were you talking to Corey about?" Deanna asked. 

Jean-Luc contemplated Federation law and invoking some right or another, perhaps the right to not incriminate himself. She gave him the fond head tilt and a glowing smile, and the invoking felt less likely. 

"Ask me something else."

"I don't have any other questions to ask. I suppose I could quiz you about old girlfriends, if you want. Or just start guessing about it based on how you were feeling?"

"I have a question for you," Jean-Luc said, gesturing at Susan and Geordi. "It's perhaps one with a fairly obvious answer. How do you know if you married an asshole?"

Geordi started to chuckle as he lounged in his chair. But Deanna answered the question. "That is an obvious answer -- you know you married one if you are one, because of course, it takes one to know one."

Susan's light laughter joined Geordi's as the waiter returned to put soup, salads and bread and wine glasses on the table, and to let Jean-Luc order the lamb. 

They started to talk about other things -- Deanna was always good at light conversation. Until, while the soup bowls and salad plates were being cleared, Susan brought up the last informal conversation they'd had. 

"You said before that you had your own context," she said, glancing at Jean-Luc. "I thought about that a little more and figured out that I wasn't sure after all what you meant by that."

Deanna reached for her wine glass -- she'd been sipping carefully, and was still working on her first glass. "My context might be a little different, yes."

"The context I was talking about has to do with the situation." Jean-Luc paused, thinking about it a little more, trying to ignore Deanna's surprised expression. "Remember that I'm a career officer, and not one that expected anything in the way of a family. By the time this," he waved his hand between himself and Deanna, "happened, I'd been so far from any inkling of a relationship that I'd pretty much forgotten how. I've never had a relationship that lasted more than a month or two. Fallen in love, certainly. But I'd not let that become an impediment to a career in Starfleet."

"You say that now as if you knew it all along, but you were upset at me for being hard to convince that you were serious about me," Deanna said.

Jean-Luc gave her a brief scolding look, and continued. "So Dee and I had been together for about nine months, and she gave me an official scolding as ship's counselor and sent me on vacation, to Zanzibar. Without her, since it was an archeological dig in an inhospitable environment. Her rationale was that it was the one thing she knew would be a complete distraction from work -- something I find fascinating enough to forget about the ship for a while. She didn't count on my missing her, enough that it distracted me from the dig. She also didn't know until after I left that Vash had come along with some of the archeologists."

"Vash," Geordi echoed. "I remember her."

"Yes, well, she remembered me, but she didn't know about Deanna and I, and I really didn't feel like talking to her and kept trying to avoid it. So when Deanna showed up and told me she knew how I would feel, having Vash there, and decided to come stay with me, I took it at face value because I was so happy to see her that I didn't really think much about how much she really did not enjoy that environment until later."

"Likely after he saw what I looked like with ten centimeters of dust caked on my skin and in my hair," Deanna said, giving him a mildly-disbelieving look. "Perhaps the look of boredom I had most of the time I was there wasn't helping either."

"But then she figured out that the Vulcan on the expedition was actually a Romulan, and once he was out of the way and I started to think about it all -- it was a little startling, to think about all of it and realize that she'd done all of that without blinking or being nervous about her motives being misunderstood, and it was like the counselor and the officer and the woman I was in love with all lined up neatly with those different motivations for being there -- that was the moment I saw it would all work. For some reason, I hadn't thought a lot about marriage. We'd hinted around it, a little. But that was the moment it sunk in that this was the woman I had to marry."

Susan's expression nearly matched Deanna's, at that point. It was a bit disconcerting. Susan turned to Geordi then, and shrugged a little. "I'm glad I didn't let you talk me out of asking. Deanna's right, Jean-Luc, you are a romantic, and it does make sense. I think that's a lovely story. I don't know why you thought that was so embarrassing that you couldn't tell us."

"It's not -- " 

The waiter returned, placing plates with the braised lamb in front of each of them. After he refilled wine glasses he smiled, bowed, and retreated again to leave them to their dinner. Jean-Luc watched him go, and glanced at Deanna. 

"She's right," Deanna said. "Why was that so difficult before?"

"I don't know. I suppose I had time to think it through."

But Deanna grinned again. "I'm beginning to suspect that it has something to do with your mother."

He flinched, actually shook his head, and furrowed his brow at her. "What?"

"She was a redhead. You have a stated longstanding preference for redheads. The counselor you're having difficulties with is a redhead. Kathryn is a redhead -- she's not here, and you're having no difficulties."

Jean-Luc stared at her. "Well, thank you for coming, Dr. Freud."

Susan started to giggle again. Somewhere else in the restaurant, another woman started to laugh -- Jean-Luc went completely rigid in shock.

"Jean-Luc?" Deanna put a hand on his arm, concerned.

"I don't believe it," he muttered incredulously. He glanced around, trying to see the laughing woman. 

"Ooooh," Deanna said, sitting back in her chair. "Another old girlfriend?"

"Does this... happen a lot?" Susan asked. Geordi shrugged innocently when she glanced at him.

"It can't be," he blurted, shaking it off, waving a hand as if swatting a fly. "It's got to be someone else. What are the odds of someone else I knew at the Academy showing up here, now?"

They ate for a bit without incident, the waiter returning to check in with them and offer more wine. Jean-Luc noticed Geordi's head come up -- Jean-Luc paused, fork in the air, then turned to look up at someone standing just behind him. 

Deanna didn't seem surprised. "Hello, Admiral Bokaryov," she said pleasantly. 

"Commander," the officer said in a deep baritone. He was a broad-shouldered man with gray hair, and a matching mustache. He gave them a thin smile, nodded, and gestured to a woman standing at his left. "This is my wife, Michelle."

The woman wasn't in uniform -- she wore a dress, a modest green one, and had long mahogany-colored hair piled up in a bun on the crown of her head. Jean-Luc recognized her, despite the obvious age difference since the last time he'd seen her -- like Corey, time hadn't treated her so kindly. She had to be coloring her hair, he thought.

Deanna was introducing him, and the other two at the table, and Jean-Luc put on a polite smile and tried not to stare. Michelle wasn't looking at him with recognition at all. Perhaps she'd forgotten him completely.

"I'm looking forward to a tour of the ship," Bokaryov exclaimed, showing a little enthusiasm. "Tomorrow -- I'll let you get back to your dinner. The food looks and smells quite good. See you in the morning, Captain." 

After the admiral and his wife had gone, Jean-Luc groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Can't take you anywhere," Deanna murmured, grinning. "If you're not being kidnapped or shot at, you're running into people you used to know. Although I have to say she's the first one who appears to have forgotten you."

He dropped his hands, picked up his fork and knife, and smirked at Susan, who had an amused expression. "You know, I have a question -- how is it that you managed to never find out I was assimilated by the Borg?"

Susan blinked and shook her head. "What do you mean? How would I have?"

"When you went to the Academy, how many references to Captain Picard did you find in your texts?" Deanna asked.

Susan neatly sliced another bite of lamb and put it in her mouth, chewing while she thought about it. "There were quite a few, but none in the exobiology and tactical classes that dealt with the Borg."

"I suppose my request worked. I never got a response, so I didn't know whether they did anything about it or not," Deanna said.

"Request?" Jean-Luc stared at his wife.

She gave him a subdued smile. "More than a decade ago. You've always been annoyed by the flood of cadets showing up at your door, either awestruck or angry about some assimilated relative or another who was killed at Wolf 359. I appealed to the Board of Trustees at the Academy to remove your name from at least the parts of the curriculum that dealt with the Borg, in hopes of stopping the ongoing assault. It appears they listened to me."

Susan was incredulous. "But who would blame someone for being assimilated?"

Jean-Luc beamed at her. Geordi threw up his hands. "I know, I know -- I'm keeping her!"


	21. Chapter 21

Jean-Luc woke earlier than usual. Deanna still lay in his arms, but she wasn't asleep, he thought, as she hummed contentedly as his arms tightened around her out of reflex. 

{I'm sorry. I was thinking about you. I suppose it got your attention?}

He chuckled and cupped a breast in his left hand. While he wondered idly what she'd been thinking about him, he wrapped himself around her from behind, burrowing under the covers, his right hand questing along her body in search of skin. Her night shirt, one of his old shirts, had ridden up and his fingers found their way into her panties. She quivered as his fingertip found its target. She tried to roll over or unfold herself but he trapped her there and fingered around until she was wet and he could smell her, and her body fairly vibrated with need.

As usual, they hit the point that they shared thoughts as they occurred, and before long she was on him, kissing him, moving against him urgently in ways that he would have found alarming, had they not been able to anticipate each other's movements. She tightened around him and twisted her hips, and he came with a shout. She collapsed against him and bit his shoulder.

"Damn it," he grumbled, panting.

"Shower," she said, kissing his cheek before she slipped off and away.

That wasn't capriciousness, he knew, so he abandoned afterglow and followed her without further attempt to fondle -- he was thankful to be in uniform and ready when the annunciator went off, not the main one but the one he'd had installed on the bedroom door, with a quieter, less demanding tone.

Deanna stayed in the bathroom doing her hair while he went to open the office door. Amy stood there, in one of her dresses and some white leggings, her hair looking like she had put her head outside at warp ten. He sighed, following her back over to the living room and sat her down at the table. He had brushed some of the gooey substance they used to tame her hair through it by the time Deanna emerged with all her hair braided and coiled on her head, impeccable in uniform, to supervise. Between the two of them Amy's hair finally stopped flying away and submitted to efforts to brush it back into a braid.

Breakfast was a non-event, as everyone appeared to be hungry and uninterested in drama. Jean-Pierre started to mock his twin but was firmly put in his place by Amy. Yves seemed less mopey and more himself, grinning at Jean-Luc when he was told they would go say good-bye to Kathryn as a family after alpha shift, as she would be departing just after dinner, instead of the middle of the day as she'd expected. 

"See you on the bridge, Captain," Deanna said as she herded the children out. 

Jean-Luc watched the last of the dishes dematerialize and turned to survey the room, as the picture on the wall shifted. He stared at the one wedding picture he'd put in the mix -- a portrait of the two of them, standing together in front of the Picard home, he in the dress uniform and she in the dress he'd not seen her wear in a long time. 

He found himself smiling after a few moments of wandering in memory, and snorted. All this wool gathering could wait. 

The bridge was in the middle of the shift change -- he relieved Garrison, the gamma shift watch officer, and learned that repairs were completed, no significant communications received, one of the lieutenants in operations had had a baby, an ensign had gotten into a bar fight on the starbase, and the admiral and his wife had already beamed aboard without fanfare, having asked to be allowed to make their way to the bridge after visiting each department on their own. He thought about that and went to the ready room to bring up information on the Bokaryovs. He'd already acquainted himself with the admiral's bio, but hadn't bothered to note anything about the wife, other than the mention of her in her husband's file.

Michelle appeared to have attained the rank of lieutenant-commander before sidestepping out of Starfleet for good. She'd gotten a degree in psychology, and spent time being a counselor on a starbase during the war. She'd married Bokaryov right before he'd promoted to admiral. No children, at least not hers -- he had one, his first wife deceased. 

When the annunciator went off he'd moved on to his messages from researching the admiral and his wife, and closed the file as he granted admittance. Bokaryov came in, followed by Michelle, who now wore a pair of black slacks and a gray sweater. Both of them accepted his offer of coffee, and so he sat down for a third cup and another croissant with them, at the sofa in the corner rather than at his desk. 

"I want to compliment you, Captain, on a tightly-run ship," Bokaryov commented now that the preliminaries were over. "I deliberately came aboard before the end of gamma shift to see the various departments before the day started."

"We have to be ready at any time," Jean-Luc said, gesturing vaguely at a viewport. "As happened just a couple of days ago, responding to distress calls in this region is not unusual, unfortunately. But thank you."

"You fired your engineer," Michelle said.

He hoped the surprise at her statement didn't show. "It's not every design engineer that can make the transition to ship duty, unfortunately. Mr. Moreno's talents are better utilized elsewhere."

Michelle's pleasant expression dwindled somewhat. Her head tilted a little. "Have we... I'm sorry, Captain, but I have the distinct impression we've met, somewhere. But I'm positive I would remember meeting you, and it's just not coming to me."

He debated denying it, but sighed and went with honesty. It wasn't always the easiest thing to do, but it seemed the less dangerous of the choices at hand. "You probably would recall me if I had my hair, still. I was usually Johnny, to the other cadets."

Comprehension dawned -- she gaped, covering her mouth with her hand, leaning backward, and for a tense moment he wondered, but then she laughed a little. "Oh -- Johnny! It's you! My goodness! That was so long ago -- my God, I would never have guessed."

"You just missed Corey Zweller. He's on his way back to Earth."

Michelle recovered, but smiled at him, turning to her husband. "We knew each other at the Academy, for a bit. I never remembered his last name -- to think all this time -- I had no idea he was Captain Picard!"

"I run into people I knew at the Academy sometimes, as well. It's always a surprise to see how far we've all come." Vasily Bokaryov smiled at his wife, and at Jean-Luc. "You know we were sent here to discuss the status of your relationship with Commander Troi?"

Jean-Luc left his end of the couch and retrieved the picture from his desk, and returned to sit and pass the frame to Bokaryov. He watched the admiral study the picture for a moment then pass it to his wife.

"You were so adament you would never marry," Michelle said softly. "Four children, now."

"I suspect that I was one of the more short-sighted of the cadets that year, in some ways," Jean-Luc said. "I was not the same man just a decade after that. By the time I had the fourth pip, I was light years from that brash boy. And it took a lot more to bring me to the point of contemplating marriage."

"The thing is, Captain, that I'm quite at a loss as to what Admiral Turay expects me to find here. I came here expecting to find you were infuriated by Moreno -- after reading his report I'd have guessed you would be on the defensive, at the very least. Offering me coffee and a picture of your family isn't quite what I anticipated."

Jean-Luc shrugged and smiled. "Meeting expectations is not what I tend to do, Admiral. Defying them, or exceeding them, yes. Depending upon whose expectations we are discussing, of course. You have our own counselor's report, I assume?"

"That's what made Moreno's more confusing. Lieutenant Keller has a positive opinion of you, certainly. I had the impression she was being objective, as well."

"Over the past years there have been periods during which we have been left to do our jobs, without this sort of thing. Frankly, having no less than three people taking notes about us in the past week is the most attention we've ever been given -- I'm wondering if someone said something about us that raised some sort of alarm, and I can't imagine what that might have been. I'm just waiting for it all to die down so we can return to our duties and continue the business of ship operations."

Michelle stared at her husband, then, in a way that said she expected him to do something and wouldn't like it if he failed to comply. Bokaryov couldn't hold her gaze and looked at the floor for a moment.

Jean-Luc wondered what Deanna would be sensing, if she were in his situation. He decided that it was immaterial. Picking up his mug, he reached for the carafe and refilled his coffee.

"Michelle is expecting me to tell you about something that I suspect won't change a thing," Bokaryov said at length. 

"I suppose I could ask what would motivate you to tell me, then."

"It would be the right thing to do," Michelle said.

Jean-Luc raised his eyebrows at her. "Does it have to do with why you're here, when you're not even in Starfleet any more?"

Both of them stared at him. Bokaryov started to laugh. "Well. I suppose it's to be expected that you would do your research. I understand you're quite a good tactician."

"I have found that being informed is better in any situation. I don't think of this sort of thing as something I would employ tactics in. What Starfleet decides to do about my relationship with my first officer is up to them -- if they decide they have something to say about my relationship with my wife that would be a different matter."

"A curious dichotomy," Bokaryov said. "Isn't the point of all this that they are the same person?"

"You spoke to some of the officers, I suspect. Talking to the senior officers will be more informative. Talking to Commander Troi will be best."

The door opened, and Deanna arrived with a padd in hand. He took it and glanced at the contents before setting it down. "Coffee?"

"No, thank you. Did you wish me to stay, or should I start to arrange interviews with potential engineers?"

"Sit down, please."

She took the chair facing the coffee table, directly across from the admiral. Michelle, sitting at the far end of the couch, smiled at her calmly. Deanna acknowledged her with a nod and glanced at Jean-Luc.

"Michelle, or rather Dr. Bokaryov, is evaluating us as a contracting psychologist," he said. "The admiral is probably not supposed to tell us that -- he didn't, actually."

"I see. So we're still under suspicion with no real idea of why?"

"It seems to me that Turay hasn't really read your service record. He might have noticed you're Betazoid, and that sneaking in spies doesn't really work with an empath around, if he had."

Bokaryov's rolling, deep laughter startled them. "Have you met Admiral Turay?"

Jean-Luc shook his head. "I met him briefly, once, a couple of years ago, but it wasn't what I would consider a heart to heart. He had very little to say to me."

"He's been Judge Advocate General for a year. I suspect we didn't come to his attention until he got the job. And he seems to believe that he will find something to hang us with, if he looks hard enough," Deanna said. "One of the dogmatic officers we have met on occasion who refuses to believe it's even possible for a captain and first officer to be professionals while being married to each other. I imagine some of our friends who are married or living with their subordinates will be in a similar situation, if they aren't already."

Bokaryov's shoulders sank a few millimeters. Jean-Luc took that to be confirmation that Deanna had guessed correctly. "Perhaps we should invite him to visit us himself. Throw a party for our anniversary and send along an invitation. What are we on, now?" 

"Thirteen years."

Jean-Luc thought about that. "We didn't celebrate twelve. Did we?"

"You celebrated it by being on some sort of mission elsewhere, leaving me to run the ship."

"Eleven?"

"I was in sickbay for a week, I think."

"What about ten?"

"You were in sickbay. I was trying to find -- "

"Have we actually had any anniversary, on time, ever?"

Deanna thought for a while. "Our fifth anniversary. I believe I was pregnant at the time."

"Why the hell are you still around again?"

"Because despite your having been assimilated, tortured, declared dead, court-martialed, accused, recused, abused and mutilated repeatedly, you're still around and still willing to put up with my snoring?"

Jean-Luc eyed her suspiciously. "I thought that was my snoring."

"I also enjoy working with Captain Picard," Deanna added. "In spite of the frequent appearance of his old friends, who usually flirt with me, or his old girlfriends, who either flirt with me or with him. It's been fun."

"We'll invite them all to the party, along with Admiral Turay," he said. "And all your ex-whatevers."

"Mother will want to be there. Perhaps we should send an invitation to Nechayev as well. She would enjoy it, I think."

"Is this all serious planning?" Michelle asked tentatively.

"Sorry," Deanna said. "I think the alternative to sarcastic vindictive party planning was swearing in Klingon. I indulged him because his accent is deplorable and didn't want to subject you to it."

Jean-Luc gave her a brief, pointed glare. "The actual answer is, I suspect, calling Admiral Turay directly and asking why the hell he keeps disrupting ship's business with all this nonsense. That might avoid having to file a complaint and enduring an investigation."

After his amused expression dwindled, Bokaryov nodded. "I think you may be correct."

"We should let them interview us, don't you think?" Deanna asked. "Wasn't that why they came?"

Michelle stared at them, wearing an inscrutable expression. Finally she asked, "Why don't you tell me about how you met?"

It left Jean-Luc speechless. How to answer? He looked at Deanna, who nodded and proceeded to make the attempt. "Well, the 1701-D needed a counselor, and somehow he ended up with me. And then he refused to participate in counseling, for a while. And -- "

"That wasn't quite what I meant," Michelle said.

Deanna looked at him as if the ball was in his court. He thought about it. "You must mean how we navigated from friendship to something more intimate, then? That was about fourteen years ago. We'd known each other for about ten years -- she'd been aboard as counselor all that time, and I also considered her a friend. I'd noticed she wasn't on the bridge much lately, and so I went to talk to her about it. I missed her, and I realized that it was a little more than the friendship that I missed -- and I discovered she had been about to transfer, because she felt the same and it had come to the point that she felt she couldn't stay aboard any longer. She even knew how I felt, but didn't expect me to be open to a more intimate relationship."

"But you were. And all this time since then, you haven't had any problems with negotiating between the professional and personal?" Michelle asked.

"Of course there have been problems. Every year there are these evaluations. We've had people question and accuse, and assume -- it makes them difficult to work with. Admiral Nechayev shouted at me when she found out."

Deanna was nodding. "Admiral Jellico insinuated repeatedly that I wasn't up to the job and shouldn't be first officer, while he was aboard," she added. 

"Admiral Gaines and his ridiculous tests -- the time he put you on a different ship for a while," Jean-Luc added. He glanced at Michelle, and shook his head. "She meant problems with us -- not problems caused by the feelings of others about us."

"There have been a few of those, too," Deanna said. "Not many. It's been a long time. I had to cancel a lot of other appointments when you were recovering from the Borg, because sensing all that pain for so many nights kept me awake and gave me headaches... but that was long before we got together, wasn't it?"

"I'm sorry," Jean-Luc told Michelle. "There's not anything I can think of that qualifies -- except for the time I tried to court-martial her, but that was alien possession at work."

"Alien possessions lead to stabbings, shootings, attempts to take over the ship... pregnancy."

Bokaryov stared at Deanna with an expression of horror. "These are in your service record?"

"Medical records are separate." Jean-Luc put a hand on Deanna's shoulder. "You usually don't bring up Ian."

Her eyes went sad. "His birthday was last week."

"But that too was well before -- I'm sorry, we're not really staying on topic, are we? It's easy to come up with disruptions to our lives, harder to focus on specific kinds of problems."

Michelle sipped and put her mug on the table, and folded her hands in her lap while considering this. "You have four children."

"Yes. They're in school at the moment." Jean-Luc was a little distracted -- Deanna still had Ian in mind, judging from her melancholy, and the unexpected mood shift concerned him. 

"It's not unusual to find couples with two. Four pregnancies -- "

"Three. The twins were in an artificial womb for most of the pregnancy." Jean-Luc leaned back and gestured at the picture. "They're six, now."

Michelle was looking at the picture and now seemed to be sympathetic. He wondered if she had been able to access Deanna's medical file, after all. Bokaryov seemed interested in her reaction. "I'd like to meet them," Michelle said.

"I'd like to talk to the commander one on one, I think," the admiral said. 

So it led to Jean-Luc taking Michelle down to the school, while the admiral stayed in the ready room with Deanna. Jean-Luc appropriated the school's science lab which was currently empty. He called out the twins first, and Cordelia flew in the door with Pierre just a few steps behind, running to him. He had arranged chairs for them, four in a small circle in the middle of the room, and after a quick hug the twins sat down as if it were a common thing to be pulled out of class all of a sudden and introduced to someone.

"Papa, I got a perfect score on my spelling test!" Pierre announced.

"Excellent. I knew all that practice would pay off. This is my friend, Michelle. She's visiting today for a bit and she wanted to meet you both."

"Hi, Michelle," Cordie chirped. "Nice to meet you." 

Jean-Luc frowned at her. "What happened to your hair?" Her hair was loose around her shoulders. Deanna had put it up just before taking them all to school.

Cordelia shrugged and pulled a hair band out of her pocket. He gestured at her, and she popped up and came to lean on his knee while he gathered her hair, twisted it around into a knot and put the band in place. A little less neat than the original but passable. Michelle watched the process with a smile.

"You have hair like your mother," she commented. 

"Thanks." Cordelia threw her arms around Jean-Luc's neck. "Papa, can I have a puppy?"

Jean-Luc raised his head at the unexpected request. "You realize we already have a dog, I think?"

"But -- "

"I recognize and appreciate the strategy employed in this but you can be assured that no such acquisition can be made without extended negotiations with your mother. Sit."

She did so, crossing her arms, looking a lot like Deanna in one of her peevish moods.

Michelle's amusement didn't include outright laughter, he noticed in relief. "Nicely played. Do you like living on a starship?"

The twins looked at each other -- curious, that they didn't answer right away. "I like it here," Jean-Pierre said. 

Cordelia smiled, disingenuous, clearly up to something. "It's fun."

"Except when there's a red alert, that's not fun," Pierre said. 

"It would be more fun with a puppy."

Jean-Luc gave them a thin smile and a furrowed brow, and leaned forward slightly. Cordelia giggled.

Michelle seemed to be on the verge of laughing as she asked a couple more questions about life on a starship, and actually started to chuckle after the twins left the room with orders to return to class. "How adorable they are," she commented after he summoned Amy. 

"Sneaky little creatures. They always know exactly when to ask for something."

Amy sailed into the room with her head high, the princess in her glory. Her braid remained neatly done. She sat on request and primly folded her hands in her lap, on her pink skirt. "Hi," she said, smiling serenely at Michelle. "I'm Amy Troi."

"I see," Michelle said. "I'm Michelle Bokaryov, an old friend of your father's."

"It's nice to meet you."

"Why aren't you Amy Picard, like your little brother and sister?"

Jean-Luc had to put his hand to his mouth, pretending to be thoughtful, to cover the amused grin. Amy launched into a detailed description of the Fifth House and sounded so much like her grandmother it was comical. 

"It's hard for outsiders to understand how important it is to remember our heritage," Amy said. "Betazed -- "

"Amy," Jean-Luc put in finally. "Let it rest."

Papa's gentle nudge was sufficient; she smiled confidently and fell silent. 

"I'm impressed by your knowledge of the Houses," Michelle said, taking the matter quite seriously. It impressed Amy and brightened her smile to be heard and understood. Michelle thanked her kindly for the introduction and she marched jauntily back to class.

"Yves is going to be different," he warned her after calling Yves' teacher. "He's old enough to be an empath."

Michelle looked puzzled. "He's how old?"

"Twelve, going on thirty."

Yves came in and sat in one of the chairs without hesitation, smiling at Jean-Luc. "Hi, Papa. What's up?"

"This is Michelle Bokaryov. She was one of my Academy friends, too."

Yves grinned at her. "Wow, hi. You knew Captain Zweller too?"

"Sure," Michelle said with a nod. "I remember Corey. A pleasure to meet you, Yves. You look a lot like your father, when he was younger."

"That's what people keep telling me. Were you his girlfriend?"

To Michelle's credit, she barely blushed. But Jean-Luc knew Yves had gotten exactly what he wanted. Leveling a calm, serious stare at his son, Jean-Luc said, "You may believe based on what you know so far that your mother's patience is infinite. Don't place any bets on that."

Yves blinked and dropped his gaze. "Sorry," he muttered.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear that."

Yves looked at Michelle and said, a little louder, a little more sincerely, "I'm sorry. I was disrespectful."

Michelle nodded, glancing at Jean-Luc in appreciation. "Yves, I wanted to talk to you about how things are going for your family, here on the _Enterprise._ "

The slight rise of Yves' chin may have escaped Michelle's notice. Jean-Luc knew what it meant, and continued to stare at his son. Yves shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "I like it here. It's been difficult sometimes, but it's home."

"How do your parents get along?"

Yves blinked at that and tilted his head. "You're one of those evaluators, aren't you? The ones that think they shouldn't be serving on the same ship."

Jean-Luc snorted -- the summation caught him by surprise, but he supposed he shouldn't be -- Yves had been around the senior staff enough times that he'd likely heard about the evaluations in passing, and it wouldn't have been unusual for Davidson and Mengis to express frustration with the process. '

"And what have you heard about that?" Michelle asked, bemused and a little too interested.

"Dr. Mengis was talking to Counselor Keller at the dinner the other day," Yves said. "He said sometimes it felt like Starfleet wanted to make it so difficult to make Maman transfer or something."

"So you don't hear your parents talking about the evaluation," she said, half-guessing.

"They don't talk about work much. We talk about school. Sometimes they tell us stories about past missions." Yves studied her with an expression eerily reminiscent of his mother. "They're happy together most of the time. Aunt Kathy says they like to bicker. I figured they were just arguing for fun."

Michelle nodded slowly. "Your aunt Kathy is your mother's sister?"

"He's talking about Captain Janeway. She's a family friend. Neither of us have any surviving siblings."

"Oh, I see. So you know Captain Janeway?"

Yves smiled at the thought of his "aunt." "You can meet her if you like, she's leaving a little later today though."

Michelle asked a few more innocuous questions about life with the Picard family, and sent Yves back to class. She sighed and seemed to be deep in thought for a moment. "Why did you invoke his mother instead of scolding him yourself?"

"I'm not Betazoid. I can't always recognize when he isn't telling me everything, but she can. He's a good kid, but he isn't always completely open with us." Jean-Luc smiled at her, then asked the question he'd been wanting to ask. "So was meeting them helpful to you in some way?"

"Of course. It tells me that you have healthy, normal children who are strongly attached to you, which tells me that you have a good relationship with your wife. Kids who have parents who are not spending enough time with them, investing in relationships with them, arguing with each other or otherwise experiencing marital stress, would not be so socially adjusted or happy. I can tell Yves has your intelligence -- he's definitely not like other twelve year old boys I've met."

Jean-Luc nodded and eyed her suspiciously. "You're not entirely focused on the professional side of the relationship, then, as other evaluators have been."

Michelle gave him a canny look. "Here's what I'm thinking. I want to write a psychological workup on the two of you that's as comprehensive as I can make it. I want to clearly lay out what I see -- a healthy family who's been living on this ship since before the kids were born, and thriving in spite of a typical array of challenges common to Starfleet officers. I'll include as much collateral as I can on how you are both functioning in all aspects of your lives. All the previous reports on file don't talk about the family life at all. I think, but can't be certain, that Turay is having difficulty seeing you -- with the reputation that you have, and the long history of successes in space, and the long list of officers that have transferred into the fleet at large to make names for themselves after spending time on the _Enterprise_ , he's not able to reconcile that you have what for him amounts to a major error in judgment."

"Would it help, then, to perhaps speak to my former chief engineer, a former chief flight officer, and some others who have years of time spent under my command? And we also have a cadet aboard who would probably tell you more about us from a unique perspective. Kenny Ching grew up here, calling me Uncle Captain as most of the children do. He was our ring bear."

"Your ring... bear?"

"That was what he heard, anyway, when we told him what we wanted him to do. The growling lent the ceremony a certain Klingon flavor."

She laughed -- that laugh hadn't changed a bit. "All right, yes. I believe it would help. All of it."

They left the classroom, and while he walked toward the lift, he opened a comm channel. "Picard to LaForge."

"LaForge here -- what can I do for you, Captain?"

Jean-Luc smiled fondly at the sound of Geordi's voice, sounding like he'd never left the ship. "I realize you're supposed to leave the starbase this morning, and I hesitate to delay you any more -- "

"Not a problem, sir. Anything I can do, you'll have it. Transwarp makes a delay negligible."

Jean-Luc glanced at Michelle and slowed to a halt in front of the lift door. "I'm in the middle of the evaluation, and Dr. Bokaryov is looking for points of reference, with officers who have served under my command."

"Say no more. We'll meet you over here in conference room four, five minutes. LaForge, out."

Michelle followed him into the lift. "That's fast," she exclaimed.

"Mr. -- Captain LaForge, is an officer of the best caliber."

Beaming over to the _Venture_ took all of five minutes, and they took another five to get to deck two -- Natalia met them in the transporter room and escorted them with a polite, professional demeanor. When they entered the named conference room they found themselves faced with two long rows of officers standing at attention, in front of the viewports. Geordi stepped forward with a smile.

"This is Captain LaForge," Jean-Luc said. "Dr. Bokaryov would like to ask a few questions of you -- I have to say I wasn't expecting this kind of response from you. You know I meant -- "

"I know, sir, but I wanted to do this. I remember the evaluations, those first few years. I remember what it was like for you and Commander Troi. Dr. Bokaryov, these are my senior staff and some of the junior staff. Some of them I worked with and others were trained aboard the _Enterprise_ after I left to be the first officer of the _Markov_. You can address any and all of us with whatever questions you have."

Michelle stared at the assembled officers, at a loss for a bit. "I think it would be most efficient to ask a question and then have each of you answer in turn," she said at last. "I'd like to know first -- name, rank and how long you serviced with Captain Picard and Commander Troi."

So began the long process of having eighteen officers answer each question -- Michelle started with basics, asking about their experiences while serving with them, but after three questions Geordi surprised him by stepping forward again and addressing her.

"All due respect, Doctor, but you're asking the wrong questions."

She did a slight double-take. "All right, Captain. What should I ask?"

"You're trying to understand how it is the Captain and the Commander managed to have their career in spite of being married and on the same vessel. You're not looking at their relationships with other officers. That's what makes Captain Picard unique. Not just with the Commander, but with all of us. He doesn't know that, maybe, but being on his ship isn't like being on any other ship in the fleet."

"So enlighten me, then. What was your experience with Captain Picard, that makes him so unique?"

"I started out at the helm," Geordi said. "I didn't expect to be the chief engineer -- but I became one, and it wasn't because I was perfect to start with. I knew that I had to get things done and be efficient, so I busted my ass doing it, and every year got better than the last. There were times I made mistakes, and there were a few situations I got into that could've been the end of me. He could have sent me out on disability instead of waiting for me to recuperate from some serious stuff that happened to me, gotten a new engineer, but there's one thing about being one of his officers -- you aren't disposable. You don't get left behind, and you don't get thrown away. He doesn't make any mistake your last one. I've seen him risk his own life for junior officers, for civilians -- kids of the crew. And that was from the day I came aboard. Once you're on his ship, you're part of his family."

Jean-Luc felt himself bump up against the wall before he realized he'd taken a step backward -- and he stood there, staring at the floor, while Natalia stepped out of line next, and began to talk about her father, and the anxiety she'd felt coming aboard, and feeling so relieved when Captain Picard taken her under his wing and yet never been the slightest bit out of line on duty with her, despite her status as chief babysitter. She talked about a relationship with him that had helped her become a confident and solid officer who could see a ship in her near future, and wanting to model for others the same kind of professionalism she'd learned from him. And then she went on about her experience with Deanna, being alongside the commander in classes that a ranked officer would normally never subject herself to, preparing for a transition to command in a way that no other officer might have -- 

Jean-Luc excused himself and stepped out then, leaving Michelle to listen, and strolled around the corridor on deck two, looping around and around, schooling himself to calm down and not be upset at hearing a first hand account of Deanna's struggles to catch up to what she'd believed was an acceptable level of competence for a first officer to have. Geordi joined him on the next turn around the deck. 

"I can't believe they're doing this after all these years," he muttered, and Jean-Luc was surprised to hear anger under his words.

"There are going to be officers who can't believe it could work all this time without someone turning a blind eye," Jean-Luc said. "Apparently Turay is one of those who feels the need to establish himself in his position with a certain level of chest-beating."

"I didn't mean to startle you, sir."

Jean-Luc grinned at him. "I guess I didn't realize how many officers you'd collected who had been aboard the _Enterprise_. And some of the surprise was about realizing I remembered all their names -- it's an accomplishment beyond a certain age to have a good memory, you know."

"Susan and I had a good time, last night. I'm a little tempted to stick around another day until this Borkenoff -- "

"Bokaryov. She's an old friend as well, actually. Part of why I asked for your help is that she is intending to write a thorough report that establishes that we're not simply appearing to be what we are. Michelle and her husband the admiral are actually sympathetic -- they were a little confused at finding that we weren't being defensive, or angry, after Moreno left."

"Okay. Well, just the same, if it would help I'll let her interview me until she has whatever answers she needs. Nat's right there with me, y'know."

Geordi walked with him and continued the conversation, as Jean-Luc shifted to asking about the Gamma quadrant, which felt safer than continuing to focus on displays of sentimentality. On the fourth trip around the deck, as they slowly walked past the door, it opened and Michelle emerged. She looked stunned -- overwhelmed. Geordi crossed his arms and Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow. 

"Okay," she said at last. "Thank you, Captain LaForge."

"Thank you, Geordi. And if you want to stick around for dinner -- "

"I believe we will. Susan and I will be over right after alpha shift. If you need anything else, Doctor, we'll be here."

Michelle stared at him. "I get the feeling you and your officers are all somewhat upset about this evaluation."

"You have to understand, Doctor, that from our perspective, the idea that Captain Picard has compromised in any way, that he's been unprofessional or biased in the line of duty, is actually pretty damned insulting to those of us who watched Deanna nearly kill herself to meet his standards. If he asked any one of us to come help him out, you can bet orders and admirals will all be pushed out of the way while we do that. You can bet on that and win every time, ma'am." 

Jean-Luc turned and walked with Michelle to the lift, and rode back to the transporter room in silence. He nodded to Zhezwinn, the holdover transporter chief that had been aboard for years, since the ship was commissioned, and they beamed back to the _Enterprise_.

"He's right," she said as they left transporter room two. "Every evaluator has been asking the wrong questions."

"So you're now going to ask the right questions?"

"I just have one more question for the commander, I think."

They reached the ready room to find Deanna had done away with the coffee service, but she sat talking with the admiral calmly and looked up with a smile when they entered the room. Jean-Luc returned to his end of the couch and Michelle sat down again with her husband. 

"You were off the ship for a while - did you say good bye to Geordi?" Deanna asked.

"No, actually, Michelle wanted to talk to him. He's decided to stay for dinner tonight."

"Oh, that will be wonderful," Deanna exclaimed. "So is there anything else that you need from us?" She turned to look at Michelle. 

"I have one more question for you, and I believe that I will be able to finish by speaking to the rest of your senior staff."

"All right." Deanna lost some of the happiness in her face.

"Would you tell me why you decided to aspire to be the first officer of the _Enterprise_?"

Deanna didn't show much in the way of an outward reaction. Jean-Luc leaned forward a little, interested in the answer as much as the Bokaryovs were. "There were several reasons," she said at last. "But I suppose the most compelling was that I felt it would be more satisfying, in the long term, than remaining the ship's counselor."

"You wanted the position, then. It isn't what counselors typically do, though, is it?"

Deanna shrugged and shifted in the chair slightly. "No. I haven't heard of another example of a counselor becoming a first officer."

"It sounded, from what Commander Greenman told me, as though you felt you needed to work very hard before taking the position. But you had taken the bridge test, previously. You had already taken the watch, some shifts, in the past. And it's also odd that you wouldn't aspire to first officer until you were involved with your captain."

"That has been said before, as well. Perhaps I felt at that point that I needed more of a challenge, professionally, because it was simply that stage in my career -- he encouraged me to, told me he was a little embarrassed that he hadn't done so before, because he knew I could."

Michelle seemed very intent on her face as she said, "So you could tell, because you could sense that he believed that to be true, that you were able to manage all of this, while you and he were in an intimate relationship. And the JAG at the time you took the promotion was Betazoid, as I recall. I seem to remember reading some of his reports."

Deanna had gone sober. "Was there some question that we weren't telling the truth?"

Michelle dropped her gaze and her faint smile of regret bothered Jean-Luc, as it seemed to confirm it. "I think that there were questions, in the minds of others. I don't question it, myself." She turned to her husband. "We should go talk to the doctor now."

"You can use one of the conference rooms on deck two, if you would like," Jean-Luc said. "And if there is anything else you need, don't hesitate to contact me."

Michelle nodded and gave him an almost wistful smile, and the two of them stood and left the ready room.

"I'm not sure I'm going to survive another one of these, Dee," Jean-Luc said after a few moments of silence.

"You would survive. The evaluators, I would not be too sure about."

"Michelle said she wants to make this thorough and comprehensive. She's trying to help."

Deanna turned to beam at him. "Do you find it strange, that after all this time, some casual girlfriend from your distant past is doing her best to help you keep your Starfleet career and your marriage intact simultaneously?"

"Next you're going to tell me she's feeling a bit regretful that she didn't stick with me, back then?"

A snort, as she got up and headed for the door. "Apparently I don't have to."


	22. Chapter 22

Yves followed his siblings and his mother along toward home. Amy grabbed his hand, smiled at him, and half-skipped with him as he walked.

"Maman, can we have a puppy?" Cordelia asked.

"Why would you ask that?" Maman didn't sound upset, just curious, but Yves could tell she didn't like the idea.

"Puppies are cute!"

"You provide me with all the cute I need," Maman said with a smile.

"But Maman -- "

" -- we could take care of -- "

" -- and we would -- "

" -- I could name it -- "

Maman stopped walking and turned completely around, hands on her hips, and stared at them. They were in a junction of corridors on deck ten, almost to the lift, and several families who were also leaving the school sidled by them and kept walking.

"You know that's not going to happen," she said at last.

"But Maman! The Keenans have five puppies left -- "

"Cordelia!"

"Papa said we should negotiate with you," Jean-Pierre said.

Maman laughed at it. "Oh, he did say negotiate, didn't he?"

"We could -- "

"Cordelia!"

Yves had never heard Maman be so hard with the twins. Immediately, she caught herself and took a breath, and continued in a more subdued, reasonable tone.

"We're not going to get a puppy, and you're not going to negotiate me into agreeing that we will."

"Mamaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnn," Cordelia wheedled, in a way she'd never done before.

It only made it worse. Maman turned and strode for the lift. Before Jean-Pierre could say what he'd opened his mouth to say, Yves put a hand on his shoulder. "Not going to work, Pierre. Might as well stop now, before she gets angry."

"They're cute puppies," Cordelia wailed softly, tears starting to fall.

Yves tried to push her forward, but she turned around and threw her arms around him, and suddenly he had a crying sister in his arms. He glanced at Amy and got no help -- Amy seemed sympathetic, whether to him or to Cordie he wasn't sure, but other than touching Cordie's shoulder, she didn't do anything.

"Cordie, come on. This isn't helping anything."

But Cordelia was crying in earnest now. And Maman had turned back upon realizing that her children hadn't followed her, and stood over them with sad eyes. She dropped to a knee and put her hands on Cordelia's shoulders. "Cordelia, you know we already have Fidele. We're not going to get any more pets."

Cordelia wrenched free of Yves' arms and ran, dodging their mother, and Yves stared after her in shock. "She's really upset."

"Let's go." Maman didn't run after his younger sister, and when they reached the lift and the door opened, the turbolift car was empty. She'd gone ahead in a different lift.

When they reached the door to the Picard quarters, Yves could sense Cordelia's anguish plainly. He followed Maman through into the living room. There were other people there -- Geordi and his friend Susan, and Natalia, and Papa, all sitting on the couch, and Cordelia had climbed up into Papa's lap and was wailing her heart out. He looked up at Maman with one of those expressions that asked what was going on and why he'd been given the opportunity to be in the middle of it.

When it was clear Cordie wasn't going to let up, Papa carried her to her room, mostly muffling the plaintive wails. Yves greeted their guests and went to Fidele, laying in his bed in the corner behind the dining table, and petted his dog and childhood friend. Pierre disappeared into his room, and Amy sat with Natalia to talk to her.

"Would you like to play chess?" Fidele asked.

"I'll get the board."

On his way back from his room with the voice-activated holographic chess game, Yves passed Maman, who ran a hand over his hair on her way by. He dropped cross-legged to the floor and plopped the board down, off to the side of the room out of the way, and Fidele came over and sat looking down at the black and white pieces, his ears standing up attentively.

"You first," he said, and Fidele cocked his head to the right in contemplation and ordered a pawn forward two squares.

"A dog that plays chess," Susan said, amused. Geordi chuckled at it.

"He also plays a pretty good game of go," Natalia said. "And tennis."

Fidele panted and glanced at Natalia, his tail sweeping back and forth against the carpet. "I have not played tennis in a long time."

"Maybe you should talk Yves into playing," Nat said. "He needs the exercise."

"How does he play tennis?" Susan asked.

"He has fast paws." Yves moved his bishop out four squares.

Maman returned from Cordelia's bedroom and asked Yves if his homework needed doing. She had the ebbing frustration and sympathy left over from dealing with Cordie, and some of the warm feelings she often had for Papa lingered. He moved to his room with the chess board and Fidele, and pulled out his padd to skip through and make sure he had everything done before turning the board back on and continuing the game.

Cordelia came in and threw herself across his bed behind him. "It's not fair," she pouted.

"Why?"

"Fidele may be our dog, but he spends all his time with you. I wanted a puppy of my own!"

"Fidele doesn't poop, shed, pee or destroy stuff chewing it up."

"But I can teach -- "

Yves turned to stare at her. "Cordie, do you remember when you wore diapers?"

She blinked at him, her brow wrinkling. "No."

"I don't remember when I did, but I remember you and Pierre. Trust me, neither Maman or Papa wants to deal with training or cleaning up with anyone or anything else. And you won't want to either. You need to think of something you can have that doesn't make messes. Like maybe another dog like Fidele."

Cordelia watched Fidele ask for his rook to move five squares. She had shifted gears -- instead of anger and frustrated desire for a cute little puppy of her very own, she was imagining and thinking and starting to feel better. She rolled, sat up, scooted off the bed, and leaned to kiss him on the head. "Thanks!"

After she ran out, Yves put Fidele in check. The dog thumped his tail and moved a pawn to block him. "Do you think she will succeed?"

"I don't think so. Maman will probably expect you to play kadis-kot with her more often though."

"That would be fine. Check."

 

\--------------------

 

"Why do you do that?" Susan asked.

"Do what?" Geordi reached for his glass. They were sitting around the table drinking what was left of the wine. Kathryn and her children had stayed for dinner, and then everyone had gone to the shuttle bay to see them off before the children were sent to their rooms to bed. Natalia had already returned to _Venture_ , to see to something before departure. 

"If I ask them a question you stiffen up like you're expecting something bad to happen."

Jean-Luc smiled at that. So did Deanna, and she grabbed his sleeve and yanked. "You're so impersonal all the time. Trained him so well."

"I have no idea -- "

"Of course you do. You do so well playing innocent, too." Deanna leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs at the knee. "Are you going to answer her question?"

"No."

"But -- " Susan cocked her head and regarded him with a suspicious expression. "Are you going to claim embarrassment? If the wedding were such a travesty would she had gone through with it?"

He pointed at the large frame over the couch, as for possibly the tenth time that day, the image shifted to that of the two of them in front of the Picard family home. Both their guests looked at it.

"That's from the wedding?" Susan asked.

"It is. That's the dress she wore." Geordi sounded a little surprised. When Susan turned a scandalized look on him, he said, "Well, I just haven't seen her wear anything like that since. It really wasn't a style she wore much of. I think it surprised a lot of us, at the time."

Jean-Luc was looking at the picture, tracking what they were saying but remembering the dress -- not from the wedding but from the original wearing of it, the day he'd found her in the lounge. He hadn't known why she had worn it until after the wedding, and wasn't at all certain to this day how Deanna felt about it. He could assume based on the fact that she had agreed to wear it for the wedding that it wasn't a sensitive subject, but decided not to. 

"It was a wedding dress," Deanna said. "It was supposed to be unique."

"It was that," Jean-Luc said at last. "I wish I could have worn that suit for the second one, on Betazed. It would have been so much more comfortable."

"I thought Betazoid weddings would be more comfortable than anything -- don't they get married in the nude?" Susan's grin definitely had a puckish quality. 

"Some do. House weddings aren't so relaxed. And some of the costume is permanent." Yanking a sleeve back, he displayed the purple and gold tattoo along the skin of his inner arm to the elbow.

"What does it say?"

"Something about being the property of the Fifth House. Or of the Daughter of the Fifth House, perhaps."

"It's a lot more context than I'm willing to give right now," Deanna said. She sounded tired, and evidently Susan agreed.

"Geordi, we should go," she said sadly. "As much as I'd like to stay, you did intend to leave tonight. And I'm as tired as she sounds."

Deanna hugged each of them, and Jean-Luc hugged Susan but gave Geordi a firm handshake and a hand on the shoulder instead. They agreed to meet again soon, but Jean-Luc knew how likely that was. The Gamma Quadrant may have a convenient wormhole but exploring it would mean a long time before their friends saw the Alpha Quadrant again, even with a transwarp drive. 

Deanna went into the bedroom ahead of him, and he hesitated to check the generator was set slightly higher, then glanced at the monitor on his desk, at his inbox -- there were three more messages than the last time he'd checked. He noticed grimly that one of them was from Michelle. The evaluation wasn't done yet, surely. He debated looking at it but turned off the monitor and told the computer to turn out the lights in the office and living room, and came into the bedroom.

Deanna turned from the closet wearing the wedding dress, that diaphanous, blousy, floating thing she had randomly replicated years ago when in search of something French and traditional. 

"Oh, my," he said, nearly backing into the office again.

"It doesn't appeal to you as much as it did, does it?"

Jean-Luc sighed. "There's more to it than that. I simply remember how embarrassed you were, trying to sort out what you thought I would find appealing. I wasn't certain how the reminder would be for you."

"I seem to recall you appreciated it well enough, at least once or twice." She spread the skirt as she sat on the end of the bed, and swung her bare feet slightly. 

"Oh, yes. I appreciated it quite a bit. Beyond a certain age one appreciates any attention that a beautiful woman gives him, let alone actual attempts to get his attention."

He had been on the approach, but stopped just shy of arm's length upon seeing the hint of anger in her eyes. He could feel the pull of the bond, and knew it was a momentary flash of frustration, but she'd gone pensive and looked up at him thoughtfully.

"How you can go from charming Susan to a self-deprecating old man, in just a matter of minutes," she said at last.

"I wasn't -- "

"Of course you were. She's lovely, and you find her lack of any knowledge of your darker secrets quite appealing."

"Deanna!"

"Men do that. Human men do. Corey was just as bad. Geordi doesn't even take it seriously because it's what you all do. And you get defensive if I acknowledge it, so go ahead and posture until it's out of your system. I'll just try to wait here not itching all over in this thing until you're ready to help me get rid of it."

 Jean-Luc succumbed to the impulse -- dropped to his knees in front of her, and looked up at her with a penitent expression as he sat on his heels.

Deanna's expression shifted to concern. But for once she waited for him to make the first move, her hands folded in her lap.

"Michelle was most interested in your motivation for becoming first officer. I think I understand that."

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, looking as though she wanted to cry. "We keep being dragged back through that period of time, and I'm not even sure I'm clear about it all myself. Why can't we just be left alone?"

"Jealousy. Disbelief. Whatever else the admiral who figures out we aren't conforming to his standards feels this week. The problem is that we're still in service on a ship of the line, while everyone else promotes and moves on and retires, and we get to be news to someone else every month." He slipped his hand up her foot, around her ankle. "I remember things, you know. I remember trying to be encouraging, and now, thinking back and thinking about your response to Michelle, I wonder if my version of encouraging sounded like orders."

Still looking like she wanted to cry, Deanna put her fingers to her forehead, hunching over disconsolately.

"I wasn't thinking. I was being Captain Picard. I wanted -- it felt like it all made sense, at the time, and -- "

"Am I meeting your expectations, as first officer? Have I been a good officer?" Her other hand joined the first, and she covered her eyes.

"I -- " Somehow, he ended up with the same muddle of feelings as he'd had when talking to Keller, and let go of her ankle. Shaking his head, he wanted to strangle someone -- Turay, Moreno, perhaps even Corey.

She slid down in a pile of white fluffy material in front of him, reaching for him. "Jean-Luc," she whispered. "You can't blame yourself for -- "

"I shouldn't blame myself for blocking the progress of one of the finest officers I've ever met, simply by ignoring potential that was right in front of me -- and then by deciding -- "

Deanna shoved his shoulders, hard, sending him flat out on the carpet on his back, and then whipped the dress off over her head and wadded it violently and threw it as hard as she could. "Did you at any point ask me what I wanted to do? About any of this?" she exclaimed, crawling over to lean in to make sure she had his full attention.

"I think -- probably," he blurted. The floor seemed harder than he remembered it being.

"Do you have any questions about my motivations that are appropriate to discuss given my current mode of dress?" she snapped. Her breasts swung past his nose as she used her right hand to sweep her long hair back over her shoulder.

"Why are you so far away from me?"

Deanna settled on her knees, her hands on her thighs, and gazed down at him. "If you want to talk business I might have time in the morning. Or are you going to insist we talk about this right now?"

"Introspection gets more masochistic with every passing year," he said, wondering if he dared start to remove his uniform.

Leaning forward, tempting him with a nipple, she began to pull off his jacket. While she worked on his shirt next, he raised his hand to run a thumb across that nipple. Her fingers slowed down and she leaned into his palm.

"I love you," she said while he came up on one elbow to kiss her. Their lips met a glancing blow, and she opened her mouth for the second pass, pushing her tongue into his mouth. She was a wonderful, warm, armful against his chest. He rolled them over and shed the shirt and jacket without breaking contact with her mouth.

They broke off at last as she finally managed to unfasten his pants. "Must we do this on the floor?" she said breathlessly.

"Bathtub? Bed?"

"Bed. If you're out of the pants by the time I reach it."

 The rush, the heat, the intermingling of thought and feeling, and the deep sense of contentment and love, all went as expected. He braided her hair while they lay in the mess of sheet and blanket in the starlight, running his palms down her body, bringing her closer as she rolled to face him and he tugged the covers over them. He could tell she was still with him, since he could tell she was thinking about him -- she was remembering him, his voice, his touch. Remembering other things.... Was she really thinking fondly about times she was his counselor? While she smiled and pressed her lips to his cheek she started to push memories of feeling supremely frustrated -- he'd been unaware of how she'd struggled with passing the bridge test, though Will had mentioned at the time that she hadn't immediately passed it. He had also been aware of other events that she'd not shared in such depth but that she now showed him. Even, to his surprise, some of the things that had transpired between her and Will, over the years on the 1701-D. The more she shared, the more upset he became, until she retreated and let the intimate intermingling in the bond collapse.

Jean-Luc sat up and considered everything she'd shared. "You didn't follow Will to his new ship because of your feelings for me. But it was also because you didn't feel, on a professional level, the same way.... You followed his orders while he was first officer but it wasn't the same sense of loyalty you felt for me. All that time he spent trying to convince you -- you flirted with the idea of being with him, so often, but something told you not to?"

"He's appealing enough, on one level," she said, folding her arm beneath her head as she pulled her pillow into the crook of her elbow. "But we had agreed, at the very beginning, to keep our relationship professional. And then he kept changing his mind, over and over. He would be with other women for a while. He debated taking a promotion off and on. He would talk to me about things sometimes as if no time had passed at all -- as if we'd never agreed to remain purely professional, as if there were an agreement between us to eventually be together. He would pay my rank lip service. He was proud of me when I passed the bridge test, finally, but -- " Deanna smiled ruefully then, remembering something, even nodding about it. "At the time I was even a little angry at him. Because he was surprised. He didn't expect me to be able to do it. It made me think about other times. Some of the missions we had, some of the crises I had to respond to as an officer rather than in a counseling role, were similarly revealing. He would say the right things to me, but I could tell he didn't always mean everything he said."

"Of course you could. Just as you can tell when I'm full of it. If I really think about all the times you let me.... What?"

She was giving him her 'I know better' look. "Listen to what I am telling you, Jean."

"That Commander Troi didn't want to serve with Captain Riker."

"You believe in your officers," she said, shifting under the blanket. "You have a good instinct -- regardless of the times you felt anger, when one of your own suddenly chooses some other path, but then you've never wanted the kind of officer who follows blindly so that can happen."

"Will frustrated the hell out of me at times," he muttered, shaking his head, thinking about the man's inconsistencies. Will had been an excellent officer the majority of the time. The times he'd almost gone astray -- Soren being one example -- had been maddening.

"Not everyone in the universe can manage such consistency and strength of purpose," she murmured.

He'd not been aware of the slow return of the bond, but the sentence came on a wave of admiration, pride, awe, love, and the kind of amazement he'd had while trying to explain how he felt about Commander Troi to Keller -- the frustration he'd felt thinking about how he could possibly get someone to see and appreciate exactly what she'd done returned as well, and she lost some of the glow she'd been giving him when it came to her attention.

"I knew, even if you felt sometimes that you weren't always right, or sometimes you feared you hadn't considered everything that could influence things to our detriment -- I knew you believed I was the kind of officer you wanted. I had less confidence in myself. I knew you hadn't chosen me specifically through any process of your own. Counseling wasn't anything you recognized as necessary, or valuable. For a while, I wasn't certain you really understood me well enough to be sure that I was as you thought I was. You believed in me, and when I started to work toward first officer I had a lot of difficulty when absolutely no one took me seriously but you and Data. But even if I faltered or struggled, you continued to believe, and I realized that you wouldn't stop believing. I was afraid that you would see that I wasn't really up to it and failing to meet your expectations."

Jean-Luc fell back against his pillow and stared at the viewport. Anger, all over again, at how blind people could be. At having put her through all of that and being unable to address it himself.

"You get this angry," she whispered. "You become so frustrated, on my behalf. Because there was nothing you can do to change the minds of other people, when it came to me. You want to get through to people how proud you are of me, because you understand so much better than any of them, including our old friend Will, who still jokes about things that happened to us years ago with no real understanding of how they really impacted me. You want me to be seen for who and what I really am, to be respected for it. Because you know how much it took for me to become this. What you're not understanding is that the only opinion that has ever mattered to me in any of this has been yours -- I don't care what Starfleet thinks. If they don't ever promote me again, I'm fine with that. I know that my captain, the one who believes in me and sees me for what I really am, is proud of me and has never been surprised when I am successful. He's the one I never want to disappoint, more than anyone else in the galaxy."

It felt like she'd grabbed his heart and twisted it. Sighing, he put his hand beneath his head, closing his eyes. Thinking about the times she'd exceeded his expectations and how happy she could be, reporting after a mission -- how satisfying the work could be for her. Just as it was for him, though not always in the same way.

"You don't understand why Geordi has difficulty because you don't understand the power you have," she said, as her head came to rest on his shoulder. "You see people. You see the good, the potential, you see us and you recognize things that resonate with you and you encourage us, tap into it, and it surprises those of us who never thought we would ever be what we are. It's reparative. I think, though it's certainly not anything but a hunch, as I've never taken on Will as a client, that his father's abandonment of him emotionally was setting him up to find some of what he needed to move on in his relationship with you. Natalia did something similar. So many people have losses or inadequate nurturing when younger, and find some of their resolution of that in their career -- you manage, despite your history of sometimes forceful rejection of any personal connection with other officers, to nurture officers. Starfleet isn't going to attempt to quantify and replicate it, certainly, but sometimes I wish they would."

He exhaled, and the frustration and anxiety drained from him as he laid a hand on her head, stroking her hair. "Counselor."

"Yes, darling?"

Jean-Luc laughed at her deliberate diversion. "You've gotten so good at diverting and directing me through these conversations."

"I don't want you to burst a vessel defending yourself against my claims that you're extraordinary."

"I'm quite certain that you are the most extraordinary thing about me, any more. What an amazing woman like you would want with an old asshole -- "

"There you go again. Uncomfortable and backing away from my adulation as if I don't have any reason to feel that way. I have the very best of everything, and I want nothing else. I love you, Jean-Luc."

He started to chuckle again, as she wriggled closer and slid an arm over his ribs. "When you said you wanted me to take over the galaxy the other day... I was thinking I'd start with Betazed. It'll probably be a little harder than the Klingon Homeworld, but we'll manage."

"Oh, dear...."

"That way we can leave the kids with your mother, while we work on the rest of the quadrant."

Her quiet giggling brought a happy, contented grin to his face.

"If you'd like to also add in the galaxy next door...."

"I'll have a list of acceptable galaxies by lunch tomorrow."

"Efficient."

"Just as you appreciate."

Jean-Luc turned his head, pushing his nose into her hair, smoothing the length of her braid along her back under the covers. "I appreciate so much more than that, you know."

"Of course. I appreciate everything. Hmm, yes, that," she murmured, when his other hand slid between her thighs. "I do appreciate... that."

"We're going to have to break in that bathtub soon. Another thing I know you will appreciate."

"Soon, as in now?"

Jean-Luc started to sit up again, kissing her while she ground herself against his fingers and pushed her breasts against his chest. "There's no time like the present," he whispered against her lips.


	23. Chapter 23

Jean-Luc lingered as the senior staff left the briefing, thinking about getting coffee -- he had had part of a cup at breakfast, which Cordelia had turned into a campaign for a message to Uncle Data requesting a "brother or sister" for poor, lonely Fidele who had nothing to do all day while everyone was working or in school. Deanna brought him a cup as well as a plate with a croissant.

"You look hungry," she said, patting his shoulder before she turned and headed for the door.

"You look normal to me," Keller said. She'd lingered, picking up the mug she'd brought in with her and watching everyone else rising from their seats to go.

"She knows I'm hungry -- even if she couldn't sense it, she watched me wrangle children this morning instead of eating. Did you want to talk to me?"

Keller's apologetic smile said yes. She watched the last to go, a lieutenant who'd stepped in on behalf of engineering, and when the doors closed behind him she turned back to Jean-Luc. "Dr. Bokaryov spoke to me late yesterday."

"That does not surprise me. I would have been more surprised had she not spoken to you." He took another bite before realizing he had failed to apply the jam -- clearly he was hungrier than he'd thought. He reached for the coffee.

"She asked me what I found to be a most difficult question. It was perplexing. It made no sense to me."

"Will it make sense to me?" Jean-Luc set aside the knife and looked at her. "Well, of course, that's what you want me to provide -- the sense it makes?"

"She wanted to know if I thought you were able to order Deanna to her death."

"Why would that be perplexing?"

Keller frowned. "I had the impression that you'd ordered her into many tenuous situations over the years. And a comment you made, about her going willingly without your having to order her to do so -- I thought you had talked to Bokaryov already about these things. And it's been asked repeatedly over the years in these evaluations, too. Why would the opinion of a short timer like me have any more weight than anything else?"

He smirked at her confusion. "I'm sure she's looking for anything that adds to the mounting evidence that there's nothing really to cause anyone concern."

"She sounded impressed with you, actually," Keller said.

"You were on the bridge during the battle at Telfas," he reminded her. "You remember Corey's reaction to my apparent lack of concern for Deanna while she was confronting one of the boarding parties. How did you feel I handled that?"

"He seemed -- " Keller's blue eyes went wide. "He was worried about her. It would follow that you were, but I didn't see it. I was supposing that if she was in serious danger, you would react differently, but that wasn't the case."

"I wasn't thinking about anything but the battle. At two moments in the middle of it I was aware of her injuries, because -- " And there he created the necessity for long explanations, but so be it. She was supposed to understand him, be his counselor, and she had a lot of catching up to do thanks to him. "I had to focus on what I was doing. I couldn't think about anything else. That's second nature, now."

"I suppose you have to project confidence, as well," she said. "Because of course you want the crew focused -- I should have realized."

"This is why you need to be on the bridge more." She did need to learn how to be a bridge officer.

"I was wondering if you had a moment to explain something?"

"If you don't mind my eating. I get scolded for ignoring meals."

Keller's brief amusement faded fast. "I don't mind at all. I wanted to ask about the other day, when you became so upset while you were telling me to emulate Deanna, if I wanted an example of an excellent officer."

He stuffed the last bite of croissant in his mouth and shoved the plate away, reaching for his coffee, using it to delay while he thought about how to answer. "You want to know why I was upset?"

"Yes. I think you were trying to tell me that while you feel very strongly about Commander Troi professionally, it was difficult to put it into words."

"The context is a little more involved than I think I can explain, actually."

Keller shrugged. "I'd like to start trying to understand it."

Jean-Luc took the mug to the replicator. "Coffee?"

She brought her cup over, recycled it, and got another raktajino on her own, and they returned to sit at the end of the table again. She sat at an angle to him, with crossed legs, and waited for him to start.

"You understand she's an empath," he said.

"Yes. Empathy is about sensing emotions -- something we all do, to some degree. But I know in her case it's a more direct sort of thing."

"Think about this for a while. What would happen if she responded to every feeling she sensed as it occurred. She can sense someone she knows on the surface of a planet -- something that I have actually put to good use, before. She can with a little effort notice the emotions of everyone aboard. With a little meditation she can bring to her consciousness things she did not actively realize at the moment she sensed them."

Keller nodded, but her placid interest indicated she wasn't there yet.

"Think about being able to do that, and having people around you, professionals, in all their conflicting and unconscious ways, reacting to you -- just the way I did. Think about feeling as you did, knowing in that direct fashion that I was attracted to you, and what you would do next in that situation as a lieutenant and ship's counselor."

The process started -- her eyes went distant for a while, and then anxiety started to show. Keller shifted in her chair and put down her mug.

"You know I'm not really aware of my own attraction to you, and I am definitely not aware of yours. We're friends. I'm your commanding officer. Perhaps over time you will have a deep sense of loyalty and respect for me, based on watching me in day to day interactions with others in the line of duty. Perhaps that would complicate how you might react to me, if the attraction you feel turned into more. Perhaps you might transfer before long, to avoid any confrontation at all, because an attraction is not at all the same sort of thing as love."

Her eyes went distant again, this time for longer. She pursed her lips, contemplating.

"She was a counselor who decided to settle for being a counselor, because she felt dreams of having her own ship were childish -- she accepted and worked within her limits, stayed with her strengths. At one point she lost her empathic abilities for a short time -- it was traumatic to her, and to this day she feels embarrassed by her own reaction to that at the time. But she could have adjusted if it had been permanent. She'd already started to, when her empathy returned."

"Why are you telling me this?" Keller asked.

"Context, of course." He took another sip of the unsweetened coffee. "When she came aboard I was aware of her, in much the same way I have been of you. She was aware of course and did not so much as hint at knowing that about me. She was so... young. Soft. She didn't wear the uniform, back then. I didn't think about her much. We worked together, she had counseling appointments, I spent my time off duty in more solitary pursuits and associating with the very few friends I had aboard -- over time, that included my first officer, my second officer, the doctor. Deanna never showed any signs that she understood more about me than I was her captain, and gradually her friend, and sometimes I was a client. She was right that I had to find her in other roles before I could accept her as a therapist."

"Thank you for helping me jump-start the process," Keller said. "I suppose I should thank her for setting that stage."

"Indeed." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "Deanna became accustomed to never allowing people to understand the depth of what she sensed about them, because it destroys relationships to allow others to know she can read them that well -- she has to know, herself, that you can handle this awareness. It's not something non-telepaths are comfortable with. She ignores so much. Allows people to suffer through things, when they deny anything is going on and she respects that choice, and suffers along with them while they deny it. She told me, once, when I developed feelings for someone else aboard, that she knew I could maintain a relationship with a subordinate -- that relationship ended when the lieutenant transferred, after we concluded I would be unable to handle just the situation we were describing, a bit ago. But Deanna has always worked alongside me, not in the lower decks. She's been a friend, and the therapist-client relationship we had was difficult to establish but ultimately saved my life. I actually think that was what taught me how to have real relationships, intimate ones, with other officers while serving with them. She helped me learn how to talk about things that build friendships of a deeper, more satisfying nature. And that therapeutic relationship we had was what she used to bring me back from the Borg -- you must have reviewed those logs?"

But Keller shook her head slowly. "I don't review old records unless there is a reason to."

"You should review them. What you won't hear in them is that she suffered through it all with me -- flashbacks, nightmares, rage, terror. I am alive because she sensed me attempting to kill myself and wounded herself getting the weapon away from me. All the worst of my fears and more, and I tried to kill her, and she absolutely refused to commit me to some facility and be done with me, because she knew me -- she knew that taking away my rank and my career would destroy me. She knew that recovering fully would only be possible for me if I could retain the only self identity I had at that point. It was not the last time she did that for me. I was tortured, for weeks, by a Cardassian. After we were married I was severely injured, brain damaged, then subjected to the influence of strong telepaths -- she was in command for weeks, I was off duty and recuperating, and she was pregnant with Amy. Officers mutinied, there was an admiral aboard for part of that time who was completely disapproving of her -- and I was having nightmares. She might have slept a few times."

She was shocked -- staring at him with incredulity bordering on disbelief.

"It wasn't until I shared quarters with her that I truly understood what she really senses from us. When I started to, I asked her about my recovery from the Borg. I didn't remember what happened. I didn't remember trying to harm her. I didn't remember much at all beyond the feelings and seeing her hand bleeding. She told me, finally, after I pressed her to -- we'd been together for some months. And I was furious with her. Absolutely livid, that she would have continued to work with me, put herself at risk on my behalf. I hardly spoke to her for days. It -- "

There were words, but it was getting hard to say them. He had to stare at the floor and think about it a bit longer.

"The feelings are hard to describe because it isn't natural for me to admit to myself, that I feel this overwhelming urge to protect her. I reacted with such anxiety to her telling me of things that had been so painful for her in the past -- there are things she still hasn't told me about, that I'm still learning about, because she waits until she can tell I will be able to handle it without a strong reaction to it. If it came down to it, if a circumstance arose in which I knew the only way to save the ship or the mission was to order her to her death, I know I would never be able to do it. But she would recognize that. She would sense that in me, being frozen in terror, and she would do it anyway. Because she's done it before. The only thing that keeps me here, the one thing I cling to, is knowing that she has always done her duty to the best of her ability and she will do that no matter what she senses from me. She will do what needs to be done, because she knows that I have already survived that much pain, and the reverse is also true. She survives her own pain, and that of others around her, and has always done so, while never appearing to suffer at all."

Jean-Luc sat with the weight of it settled in his stomach, trying to keep himself breathing slowly and to not show what that brought up for him -- the room was so completely silent that he knew Keller was sitting like a stone and trying to process what he'd handed her. Finally he flicked his gaze up from the carpet to her face. She had such an unreadable expression that he knew she was still overwhelmed.

He thought about Deanna, realized how she was reacting, and began to smile about it. That pushed Keller back in her seat -- her eyebrows rose another notch.

"Three," he said softly. "Two. One."

The door opened and in sailed the first officer, in full stride, upright and indignant. She came to a stop and glared down at him. When he didn't budge or say anything, she leaned, hovering over him, until he had to lean away.

"I'm sorry."

Deanna took a step backward. "You could warn me," she scolded, furious.

"I thought meetings with counselors were confidential," he said, hoping.

Her Death Glare intensified. "When you are speaking with counselors about me, Nella, the Borg, trying to kill me when post-assimilation trauma turns you into a lunatic, or sending me to my death in the line of duty, you will warn me, so that I can block myself out of your masochistic introspections and not interrupt a meeting to race up here to determine whether or not you are having some sort of unexpected mental breakdown!"

He tried not to wince. "Yes, ma'am."

Deanna marched out again, fuming all the way.

"So that was Mrs. Picard," Keller said softly.

"It was Mrs. Picard, trying to be Commander Troi, but interrupted by her forgetful husband and his masochistic introspection." He set aside his empty mug, considering another but deciding to wait. "So the original question -- the one you asked, I think, was why I was so upset trying to talk about Commander Troi. I think it needs to be said that she -- Counselor?" The look on her face stopped him.

"Guilt, I think," she said.

Jean-Luc waited, studying her serious, calm, comprehending expression.

"She's silent more than she speaks," Keller said. "She impresses you in retrospect, as you weren't aware of what she sensed until she felt safe enough with you to tell you. Someone like her doesn't trust everyone, trusts hardly anyone at all with everything, in fact, and is perpetually misunderstood. You don't like that she accepts her current position for an extended period, feeling that she deserves her own vessel, and it's likely that to escape accusations of impropriety you don't decorate her as often as you'd like to. The pride you feel for her in rising above everything she's been through, to become what she is -- that's the most obvious of all. You trust her -- she feels comfortable enough in that trust that she senses you have that she can roar in and scold you without fear of being misunderstood."

He was grinning by the end of it. "So...."

"So, I think I understand a little more, now. Why she didn't really share very much with me, when I tried to talk to her about you before. I went to her a few times over the past months asking for a little help figuring out how to get you to come in and talk to me. She wasn't much help. Encouraging, but not revealing.  She let you figure it out, that you were avoiding me, without pushing or prompting either of us. It's what she said she did as your counselor. She said more when you were in the room with us than in all the times I met with her before. She protects you in the places you're sensitive, and you let her be the buffer she is. And she trains cadets, arranges schedules, coordinates departments and raises your children, makes it all look easy, fights with aliens once in a while, and you love her."

Jean-Luc was nodding at it, thinking about the things she wasn't saying, that he wasn't going to say.

"Anything else you think I need to know?"

"She didn't reveal much to you about me because that would interfere too much in my relationship with you."

Keller blinked. She stared at the mug she held for a moment. "So it wasn't about protecting you?"

"Sometimes, yes. But I think you haven't seen much of her beyond her professional front, yet. You also don't know how to tell when she's diverting conversations away from what she doesn't want to reveal."

"But she's been so friendly and... you're going to tell me that's her professional front, being friendly and personable. She's not going to be successfully hiding extreme sensitivity if she isn't perfectly presented as a relaxed and confident officer."

"When she came aboard, I formed an opinion of her that was only partially correct. I revised that opinion too slowly, because she is too good at projecting that front."

"You're not doing a very good job of protecting her," Keller commented gently.

He shrugged. "I'm sharing my impressions of her. Your experience of her will be different. I'm not telling you far more than I am telling you."

She seemed to be lost on another world for a while, thinking, and then her eyes came back to his again. "Starfleet has issues with the evaluation because they don't look at the depth of your relationship with her. It really wouldn't work the way it does, without the friendship."

Jean-Luc thought about what Deanna had said, the memories and feelings she had shared with him about Riker, and shook his head. "That would be a reasonable assumption to make, but I don't believe that's all of it."

"It's fairly common knowledge that friendship is the core of any functional marriage," Keller said.

"I'm sure that it is. But for years my friendships were all in the context of Starfleet. Transcending my identity as a starship captain took more than that. You haven't asked what we have in common."

"Starfleet?" Keller smiled faintly. "Four children?"

"A great depth of experience in being invisible."

Bemused, her eyebrows drawing together, Keller asked with her eyes.

"You know as much as I have told you, and as much as you see. You can infer some things. You don't know me. You know less about her. We escaped parents who could not see who we were and refused to accept us, joined Starfleet and were molded into something else, and decided together to evolve into people."

The door opened again, and Deanna returned, disrupting Keller's attempt to understand what he was trying to explain. She was calmer, actually smiling, despite the questioning look she gave him. He smiled, watching her take a seat across from Keller.

"What hole are you digging for yourself today?" she asked.

"The counselor wants to understand why I become upset when I try to tell her how I feel about Commander Troi."

Deanna's shoulders dropped slightly as she settled back in the chair, hands in her lap. "Do _you_ understand why?"

He grinned. "I thought I did. Perhaps you can tell me whether I really do?"

"You'll have to forgive him, he's flogging away at this as diligently as he knows how." 

Keller had an immediate smile in response to Deanna's. "I told him I thought it was guilt."

"Hm." Deanna considered him seriously.

"I see your meeting concluded," he said, deciding to throw a bend into the conversation and give Keller a break.

"I met with some of the engineering staff, to debrief. Start to pick up the pieces," she said. "Your thought about promoting Lieutenant Norris was perhaps premature. I contacted Fox, and arranged a subspace meeting for us this afternoon."

"Dr. Bokaryov is coming back this afternoon. She's almost finished collecting the information she felt she needed."

"Then I suppose we are departing when she disembarks."

Jean-Luc turned to look out at the stars. They were in a high orbit, no other ships in view. He thought about Michelle, briefly, and a few others he had known, all those years ago.

"Jeneice," Deanna said. 

Jean-Luc glanced at the counselor. "This is another problem with an empath."

"That sounded more like telepathy," Keller said.

"No. I think of a person, she recognizes my emotions. I may not be completely aware of them, but they're there." He sighed, and deliberately started thinking of her, one of the first times she'd tried to engage him in counseling.

"Counselor Troi, a long time ago," Deanna said.

He snorted, searched through memory quickly, and thought about someone else from the more distant past. 

"Professor Galen. Almost too easy."

"It would take a while, to come up with one you didn't know."

"You trust Keela," she said, commenting on how transparent he was being with her in the room.

"I suppose so." Jean-Luc turned again to look at Keller. "Possibly because she's trying to see me, instead of deciding who I am."

Keller's genuine smile told him she understood what he was saying. "You said you had to transcend being an officer?"

"That's an interesting word choice," Deanna said. "As if you see ordinary family life as something you had deprived yourself of, where once when you were younger you saw anything other than Starfleet as boring and ordinary."

"Priorities change, I suppose? Or perhaps I decided to want one anyway, and finding someone else who wanted to have both the career and the family proved to be the sticking point?"

"I get the feeling I am being provided with an unparalleled opportunity," Keller said, suddenly. 

Deanna shot Jean-Luc a dubious look. He shrugged. "Why would you say that?"

"Because I am able to work with you. And I don't say it based on what I've read, about either of you. This past week, you told me more about you than I understood in the past six months. It feels like I've passed some sort of test, or possibly met some qualification, that you've decided I'm trustworthy."

At that, Deanna stared at Jean-Luc. 

"I know, I know," he said with a sigh. "It's all my mother's fault."

Deanna started to laugh aloud, in a way rarely heard during alpha shift, cupping her hand over her mouth as if trying and failing to contain it. Keller looked as if she wasn't sure she could join in.

"You're fine, Counselor," he said. "I have very little in common with Oedipus, and it's not at all complex."

"I'm sorry, Keela, he does this," Deanna exclaimed, stifling giggles. "He thinks he's being funny."

"If it's not funny, why are you laughing?"

It stopped the laughter, which he regretted, and brought a quite different expression to Deanna's face -- for a moment it was entirely too easy to forget where they were, and what they were supposed to be doing, and then she turned away, looking at the floor. When she raised her eyes again it was to look at Keller, which Jean-Luc found himself unable to do.

"I'm laughing because it makes me happy that he tries so hard to make me laugh," she said, not to him but to the counselor. And then she stood, turning, pointedly not looking at him, and adopted a sedate, too-casual stride as she headed for the door.

"I'll see you later, Counselor," Jean-Luc said, in motion and just a few steps behind her.

She headed left, up the bridge toward the nearest lift, and he went for the ready room, nodding to Edison on the way past, and once through the door he slowed, but made it to his desk and leaned on the end of it wearily. He spent a few moments remembering the expression on her face and felt her responding -- acknowledging and returning his feelings, and floating for a moment with him. Then she was gone, probably leaving the lift and moving on to her morning mok'bara class.

"Computer, Earl Grey, hot."

He fought the never-ending battle of his inbox, answering messages from Marie, Will Riker, Chakotay, and a surprising one from Lwaxana asking if she might be able to surprise Deanna for her birthday by coming for a visit. Usually she was requesting that they send the children to Betazed. And then he started to read Keller's forwarded copy of her contribution to the annual evaluation.

And then the annunciator chimed, right on time, at ten hundred hours. "Come in!"

Annika Hansen came to sit in front of his desk, and he offered her tea, which she accepted. Every week, sometimes rescheduled due to the demands of a mission, she came as agreed to report on her progress. As he'd expected her to do when working with Deanna on an ongoing basis, she'd made a lot of it. She met now with Keller, and in addition to working tables in Ten Forward, she occasionally took a turn at the equipment desk in the gym. Deanna would make time here and there on a less formal basis to visit and continue to mentor her, but felt that she was doing well enough that the regular meetings they'd had for nearly a year were no longer necessary.

Jean-Luc settled in his chair again, and smiled at the young woman. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Captain," Annika said pleasantly.

"I understand Commander Troi will be requesting your assistance with the cadets, this round."

"Yes. I'm excited to work with her," Annika replied with a smile. "She's done so much to help me that I want very much to return the favor."

"She didn't tell me exactly what you'd be doing." Jean-Luc sipped his tea and listened to the young woman summarize a syllabus for an astrometrics course designed to orient cadets to the astrometrics department on the _Enterprise_. She paused as she finished describing the class, sipping her jasmine green and becoming thoughtful.

"I wanted to ask," Annika began, then didn't seem able to raise her eyes to meet his. Which was unusual. Over the past year she'd been aboard, the former Borg had turned things around -- going from stiff and emotionally unavailable to shy and finally to this relaxed, more human version of herself that showed promise of finally mastering her own feelings and making friends. She'd spent a lot of time with the civilian staff and even volunteered shifts in astrometrics, taking orders from the crew while helping with maintenance tasks. He'd seen her change in tiny increments, just letting her report her activities to him and giving her some limited feedback -- he'd groused at Deanna for requesting that he do this, but the ire had waned over time, and the faltering relationship with Annika had become yet another of those pseudo-parental experiences for him.

"I wanted to ask if you would be willing to provide a letter for me, to accompany my application," she said at last.

"Of course."

Her blue eyes flicked up to meet his -- why was she surprised? "Thank you," she exclaimed, her smile blossoming again.

"I've seen the progress you've made. I think you may find it challenging, in some respects, but we'll make sure you find your way to the resources you'll need. I suppose you asked Kathryn for one while she was here, as well?"

Annika nodded, her joy at having been able to spend time with her friend and mentor plain to see. "Deanna said that she wanted me to talk to you about the Academy."

He chuckled, giving his head a shake. "I'm surprised -- I doubt any information from the Stone Age would be relevant, at this point."

Annika obliged him with a light laugh, demonstrating her progress neatly -- the joke would have been lost on her, before. "I think she meant what I should expect to face as a former Borg."

"It sounds as though you already heard a little of that from her."

"I'm apprehensive, and she wasn't optimistic." Annika flushed light pink. "She said that you have had cadets and officers confront you, in the past. I am concerned how people will react to me. She told me that she has been careful to avoid using my name, referring to me in reports and the paper she wrote last year by my old Borg designation, but that she can't be certain who has more detailed information about me."

"Misunderstanding will happen regardless of your origin. With the removal of the ocular implant, I suspect the real problem will be the intentions of hundreds of young human males with more hormones than sense."

She blinked and sat up a bit straighter.

"The Academy has a variety of campuses strewn across the quadrant -- most non-human cadets get at least half their training elsewhere, before making the pilgrimage to San Francisco. They would be less likely to react to you in unpredictable ways. But you are human, and trying to be more so with each day, and so being among them is more critical. So the issue becomes how you intend to handle the attentions of other cadets, in the hours you aren't in class."

A tiny wrinkling between her eyes matched her slight frown. "How did you handle it?"

It took a great effort not to wince. "Badly."

Her eyes held great confusion -- the expression on his face had to be laugh-or-cry.

"I suspect it's in your best interests to practice saying 'no' and learning some martial arts. Also, Deanna has this wonderful expression of disdain -- it's worth practicing. And -- is something wrong?"

"I'm beginning to suspect you are teasing me," Annika said faintly.

"What?"

"You're insinuating that the other cadets will try to persuade me to...."

Jean-Luc closed his eyes. He was, he realized, holding his breath. And then he started to laugh -- rather than swear, which would have been worse, but laughter was the wrong thing to do as well. "I'm sorry, I seem to be finding myself in these awkward conversations lately. Yes, I think that you will receive a lot of attention in that manner, especially if they do not know your history as a Borg. Which is perhaps one of the better things about relative anonymity, for you. I recognize that you may be uncomfortable with the idea of physical intimacy, since all your work so far has been in the emotional and intellectual realms while you've been aboard, and Deanna has actively discouraged you from considering such pursuits. But, if you're heading to the Academy, it's something to think about and decide what you want to do to handle such offers, as there's no way for me to frown at cadets across the span of two quadrants on your behalf."

Rather than continue the uncomfortable discussion at hand, Annika stared at him for a moment then promptly started a completely separate uncomfortable discussion. "You have actively discouraged people from... engaging in...."

"I didn't -- " He caught himself holding his breath, and exhaled. "I haven't. But, this is my ship, and everyone on it knows better than to behave like immature teenagers. With that one exception, and we managed to rid ourselves of him. I can't guarantee that immature teenagers on Earth will adhere to my standards, nor would I be able to remove the ones that don't."

She nodded, appearing to study the floor between her feet, her cup cradled in her hands.

"Annika."

She looked at him, slowly. "I'll speak with Deanna and with Counselor Keller, about this."

"Don't mistake my discomfort with the subject for unwillingness to help. I have two daughters, I imagine there will be similar conversations with them."

"I am aware that you did not want to spend more time with me than was necessary," she said faintly, her eyes dropping again.

He inhaled, purposefully, refusing to hold his breath or look away -- carefully composed a response. "That was true, when Deanna asked me to meet with you. I could not identify a specific moment when it ceased to be true, but it has not been the case for quite some time."

Her nearly translucent complexion showed the faintest of blushes in her cheeks. She studied him with wide, guileless blue eyes. A smile returned to her lips. "I read the book you suggested."

"And?" Moving on to another subject was a positive sign.

"I am uncertain that I am completely understanding the theme." Annika drank the last of her tea and set her cup on the edge of the desk. "It appears to be allegorical?"

"Yes."

"Then the Little Prince is examining different aspects of human nature," she said, still uncertain.

"That's the general understanding of it, yes. How did you interpret it?"

Annika relaxed her posture slightly as she considered her response. "It seemed that as he visited each planet, he met people who were not unlike the Borg. Having a singular purpose, and consumed by that purpose to the exclusion of all else. A king who rules by giving orders that natural processes would bring about without any order at all. A businessman who creates an accounting of the stars, then claiming that by counting them that he owns them. A man who claims to be the most intelligent on his world, and tells the truth only by being the only man on his world. Conceits, distorted perceptions. And then upon reaching Earth the Little Prince meets with a fox and learns how to make friends. I assume that to be what is intended by the use of the word tame?"

"How does taming something differ from merely befriending it?"

"Isn't the process of taming what one does with undomesticated animals?"

"There is an element of unpredictability in wild animals. There is some unpredictability in people you do not yet know -- one could argue that people you have not yet befriended should not be trusted, because it remains true that some people are untrustworthy, not always possessing altruistic or benign intentions for others. You were unpredictable to Kathryn, for a long time, because she was uncertain that you would transition from Borg back to human. And you are anticipating that I may still harbor some ill will toward you, or be reticent to continue an association with you, because in the beginning I was meeting with you due to the request of Deanna, rather than any concern for you. You are relying on your relationship with her, and my relationship with her, to maintain a connection with me, rather than trusting that we have developed our own rapport."

"You are saying that I have not understood that we are friends," she summarized. "That I do not believe I have tamed you."

"Is there any evidence that is not true?"

Annika thought about it for a moment. "I don't believe I can recall that you have done anything but reassure me, when I have expressed doubt. But I continue to doubt."

"I suppose then the question is whether there is anything that can be done to alter your perspective. You feel this way, but to my knowledge there's nothing I've done to perpetuate your impression that I am not to be trusted."

But she was smiling. "You never told me your feelings about me changed."

He leaned on his desk. "Was I supposed to?"

"I'm still unsure of my ability to read nonverbal cues. I believe my feelings should be different, however."

"I wonder why? Am I the only person you feel this way about?"

"No." Annika blinked. "Deanna was right."

"You'll have to be specific. She tends to be right about so many things."

Annika grinned, her eyes unfocused as she thought about it. "She told me some time ago that I often feel as though I'm doing something wrong. She said she senses sometimes that I feel guilt. I've tried to understand what triggers the guilt. I've recognized it but not understood what it was about. You observed that I anticipate that you will not value time with me, I was surprised that you would write me a letter. This is like the adults in the book. I am looking at myself from a restricted point of view, finding myself inadequate, and assuming you will see the same thing in me because I feel this way."

Jean-Luc thought about the times Deanna had called him out for sinking into similar states of mind, over the years. "Emotions can do these sorts of tricks."

"So we are friends," she said, with unexpected warmth.

He tilted his head and wrinkled his brow. "When the Little Prince explains to the fox why his rose means so much to him, what does he say?"

"He believed that he has tamed his rose. He -- " Annika stared at him.

Jean-Luc went sober, and waited patiently.

"The Little Prince defines the uniqueness of his rose, which he recognizes as being not visibly different from thousands of other roses, by the care and the effort he expends in taking care of it. He defines how important it is to him by how much of himself he expends, in helping the rose to thrive."

He leaned back, letting his hands fall into his lap, and waited again.

"If I consider the amount of effort placed into a relationship, it becomes easier to see how much love a person feels for the object of the affection."

"It tends to hold true. I do focus the majority of my energy on my family. There's something else about the way he describes the uniqueness of his rose that strikes me -- it's also how he came to love her. It's more than a statement of fact -- it's a statement of process. And though people can claim to love things, or activities, and focus vast amounts of time and energy into them, to sustain high levels of positive feelings requires reciprocity."

Annika's eyes came up to meet his, startled. "You have been telling me you care about me for a long time. I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention," she said. Unexpectedly, tears glimmered on her lashes.

"I think the next book you read should be the Wizard of Oz. It's very old, and it may be somewhat confusing at first. We can talk about it next week."

She gave him a wavering smile, and blinked away the tears. "I'll look forward to it."

"As will I. Perhaps I'll come down to Ten Forward for tea later, with a guest."

Annika left the ready room. Jean-Luc considered, glancing at his message queue -- how could there be ten more in just the short time he'd ignored it? -- and then at his schedule. He'd left a constant feed of updates continue on one of the monitors, and another update popped in logging an arrival in transporter room three. Simultaneously a tone preceded Edison's announcement of the admiral and his wife beaming aboard.

Jean-Luc rose, tugged his jacket straight, and went out to the bridge.

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

The lift opened, and their guests came out on the bridge. Jean-Luc looked up from his talk with Edison about the last upgrade left undone due to the alerts and the repairs, which would be completed later that afternoon -- a new console for the helm. There were two lieutenants taking turns crawling into a panel at the bottom of the bridge under the main viewscreen, removing bits and pieces to get at a gel pack with a headache.

"Admiral," Jean-Luc exclaimed, uncrossing his arms and coming to attention. Edison spun on his heel and did the same. From behind him, a muted thump and a yelp followed by a scramble and shuffle of things suggested the lieutenants were jumping to their feet as well.

"As you were," Bokaryov exclaimed as he strode down the left ramp. Michelle followed her husband, smiling pleasantly. Today she wore a flattering pantsuit in brilliant deep blue. "Do you have the time, Captain?"

"Of course. We'll be in the observation lounge, Mr. Edison."

They accepted the offer of tea, and he brought a full tea service to the table. "I hope you're going to tell me something along the lines of the evaluation being done and Turay is satisfied."

Michelle laughed at him. "You've always been that optimistic. What I'm going to say is that I altered my strategy, somewhat."

"Shelly likes the odds," Bokaryov added, chuckling. "Gareth Turay is a staunch advocate of the facts, just the facts, nothing but the facts. And the fact is, first officers and captains don't belong in bed together."

"Which is why I leave her on the bridge," Jean-Luc said, pouring a cup of tea. "She'll sneak in once in a while but those open marriages are fairly common and my wife doesn't seem to mind."

"Oh, dear," Michelle muttered with a sigh, shaking her head.

"I keep hearing her say that," Jean-Luc muttered. "No idea why."

The admiral gave him an appreciative smirk. "Your wife -- I think it was her, she seemed to loosen up as we discussed your children -- has a bit of a sarcastic flair as well."

Michelle stirred in a teaspoon of sugar. "I sent three hundred and twenty-four requests for information yesterday, and another two hundred forty-two today, to officers who have served under your command since you were assigned to the  _Enterprise_. I also sent the current crew the same request, barring the officers to whom I have spoken in person. To date, I have received responses from nearly all of them. I have not listened to every single response, however, a random sampling indicates Turay has a lot more to worry about than Deanna."

Jean-Luc sat down, his cup sitting forgotten at his right elbow. He frowned at her across the table. 

But she smiled, reassuring him that she was pulling his leg. "I mean, Jean-Luc, that officers you've worked with, particularly the ones who work closely with you, are all telling me that they benefited from working with you and feel that their career took a more positive and productive turn for it. And there are strong opinions on the ludicrous idea that you've somehow been unprofessional, in any way. Clearly you're amassing a small army within Starfleet and positioning yourself for a fine future as the Supreme Leader of Starfleet." She lost the smile as she saw his reaction. "I'm not serious, Jean-Luc. Or are you -- "

"No, no, not at all -- it's -- never mind." Admitting that Deanna had been teasing him about taking over the galaxy when he wasn't really sure of the Bokaryovs seemed a bad idea. In fact, now that he thought about it, it seemed strange that Michelle would be going to all this trouble on his behalf. Unlike Geordi and the others, she really had no close ties with him. "It's shocking, that you would go to all this effort, Michelle. I wouldn't have ever thought of interviewing every officer I had ever had contact with, that way."

She shrugged and picked up her cup. "The more I thought about it, the more curious I became. Starfleet psychologists look at statistics -- we diagnose, we analyze, we interpret based on what individual officers experience. There's a general agreement that relationships are important to mental health, but also that relationships are a personal matter, and Starfleet is in the business of accomplishing objectives and maintaining order in the quadrant to the best possible ends for the Federation. While I have been letting those responses to my inquiry pile up, I started to review some of Deanna's work. Have you read your wife's psychological publications?"

"I have to confess that I've avoided some of them -- I know she has written a number of papers on the recovery of myself and of Ms. Hansen, from assimilation, and it's not a favorite topic of mine. There were several others that had to do with crew concerns, the more general topic of trauma in officers, and I've attempted to read those. But psychology isn't my native language."

Michelle exchanged a look with her husband. Bokaryov nodded, and she faced Jean-Luc more seriously. "You may have been told before, and it would surprise me if you hadn't, but her work is brilliant. I know she's been offered a position on the faculty at the University of Betazed... you didn't know," she said softly when his expression changed, regret in her eyes. "I'm sorry. But I'm looking at this situation and it occurs to me that one of the things I need to make quite clear to Turay is that there are far more lucrative and safe situations falling at her feet, and she is choosing to be where she is. She is not doing this because she has to, or because being an officer is all she can do with her life. Another question that's never been asked -- what the two of you are doing in addition to Starfleet duties. Apparently, you've been mentoring certain people in addition to cadets, in essence helping Deanna continue an unofficial private practice on the side. As if children and publishing the occasional paper weren't enough for her."

"You've left out the stream of trauma cases she's asked to handle. There was a message this morning -- instead of continuing on our way, it's requested that she assess the senior officers of the _Farragut_  who we retrieved from Telfas, and treat the first officer who very likely has post traumatic stress disorder. The fleet admiral wants to give him a new vessel, and put that vessel in service as soon as possible. Had we not been careful in selecting officers to whom some of her duties as first officer can be delegated, the additional work would compromise our own assignments."

Michelle stared at him for a few minutes. "Why haven't you accepted a promotion, if you're upset that she has never been truly recognized for what she is?"

"That isn't a primary motivator, at the moment. This ship is one of many assigned to this region of space, for a long list of reasons I'm unable to divulge to anyone without sufficient clearance. I have four children. If they are to have children of their own, and long, fulfilling lives, I need to be here, until specific threats are handled and returning to Earth will not remove experienced, effective and efficient officers from the line of duty. Recruitment may have picked up, but we're not where we need to be. Deanna has an effective program developed to focus groups of new ensigns coming out of the Academy on specific skill sets and protocols, to hasten their deployment into the gap left by ships we lose and crews that are temporarily put on medical leave while dealing with trauma."

The Bokaryovs went still as they deciphered what he'd said, and not said, and could not say. "You mean that Earth is at risk of -- "

"I did not say that."

Michelle dropped her gaze and looked unhappy, perhaps a little frightened. "You feel your family is safer on this ship."

"My family is where it needs to be, for the moment. Turay's concerns are mine, because this ship needs to operate efficiently and effectively, but they are not my primary concern. I don't have time to debate whether my first officer should have her own quarters. I very much doubt that other first officers poke their commanding officer in the ribs at two hundred hours before sensors pick up anything to tell him there's a Borg cube on its way, and he needs to get dressed."

"There's -- " Bokaryov didn't get a chance to finish. 

"Troi to Picard."

"Yes, Commander?" he replied automatically.

"I have been made aware that there will be a holodeck visit after school, and would like to know if you had any additional guests you would like to invite."

"I'll contact you shortly. Picard out."

Both of them had questions in their eyes. Michelle asked, "Is that a regular occurrence?"

"We're at a starbase, and while hypothetically we could be called out any time, we take advantage of lulls any way we can. The children typically go to sitters after classes are over for the day, until the end of Alpha shift. That was the first officer informing me that my wife is taking our children to the holodeck because she's managed to rearrange schedules to do so. Which means I have a subspace interview with a potential engineer after lunch."

"I think I will forward you my completed evaluation, along with all the supporting material I've collected, by the end of the week," Michelle said. "I already forwarded a few of them."

"Thank you, Michelle."

"We shall take our leave of you, Captain," Bokaryov said, smiling warmly. 

"I'll see you to the transporter."

The lift stopped on deck ten and Naomi walked in, her padd clutched to her chest as always. She smiled up at them, coming to attention as the door closed behind her.

"This is the captain's assistant, Naomi Wildman," Jean-Luc said. "No doubt that's a completed report?"

"Yes, sir." She held it out so he could take it. "I got a good grade. What's my next assignment, Captain?"

"I think you should interview cadets who have been raised on starships. We have more than thirty new cadets aboard, and I know at least one of them grew up on a ship."

Naomi chewed on the inside of her cheek and thought about it. "I think it would make it easier to transition to the Academy, to grow up on a ship."

"An interesting hypothesis. Make it so. And, you can ask your parents if you'd like to join us on the holodeck after school." The lift opened, and Jean-Luc led the admiral and his wife out. He glanced back at Naomi, still standing in the lift. "Back to school, you can start your assignment tomorrow."

"Yes, sir." The door shut.

"Captain's assistant is a new one," Bokaryov said.

"Naomi decided there should be opportunities for children as well. She's actually provided Mengis with some good feedback on improving sickbay operations. We're guessing that by the time she's ten, she'll manage to talk Mr. Edison into letting her help in operations." He turned for the transporter room. "I might be joking."

"Good luck, Captain," Michelle said, as they entered the room. She touched his arm, and without thinking about it he gave her a hug, then turned to shake her husband's hand. 

"I'm sure, with all your help, it will all be fine. We appreciate your efforts more than you know."

"Perhaps we'll see you again, soon," the admiral said. 

He waited while they dematerialized and gave the lieutenant a nod before heading back to the bridge. Back in the ready room, he returned to messages, intending to keep chipping away at the long list, and saw that there were ten more -- apparently the officers Michelle had contacted were sending him notes and voice messages as well. He selected one, from Will Riker, and listened to the familiar voice of his old friend.

"I just responded to a peculiar request from a Dr. Bokaryov, who apparently has been tasked with that evaluation you have every year. I hope I didn't sound too shocked -- I thought this was a formality by now? It's ridiculous that it's been more than a decade, and they think you'll suddenly change?" Riker snorted. "I'm glad Bell is in sickbay. They don't focus on me nearly as much as they have you. Don't think I would have as much patience with it. You know, Jean-Luc... I have to tell you I'm pretty impressed by how Deanna is managing all of it. I think about what it was like, being your first officer, and I suppose it was probably different than what it's like for her -- it sounded like she had a hard time, at first. I wonder sometimes if she told you about everything those first couple of years after she stopped being ship's counselor. Sometimes it was hard for me to tell even though I knew her well. And Bell told me about the paper she wrote last year -- I guess it's not surprising she still wants to practice, even if she's not the counselor, but as busy as you've been and as many kids as you have, I've got to wonder if she ever sleeps. Anyway -- let me know if you need anything else? Because it almost felt like they're digging, which makes me wonder if there might be accusations, and if you need someone to take the stand you can count on us. Just give us a call."

Jean-Luc contemplated, but left a reply for later. He stared at the list of messages left unopened, then shut off the monitor and left the ready room. 

Deanna found him in the weight room, halfway through his usual routine, and as she had at times over the years, she sat on the nearest unused weight machine and watched him toil through the last four bench presses. He sat up, swung his leg over to face her, and grinned at the sight of her in the white gi.

"Creature of habit," she commented. "I doubt you've changed your routine in years."

"It changes, sometimes. Shall we return to quarters?"

Her fond smile turned into a smirk. "We could get lunch after you wash my back?"

They made it out of the gym uninterrupted, strolling together for the lift. He sighed heavily as they rode to deck six. 

"What did Will do?" she asked softly.

"I'd swap first officers for a while, if it would help him be less clueless."

Her eyes hardened. "What did I do to deserve that?"

He snorted at it. "All right. Sorry."

"You were having some difficulties today. You were all over the place, emotionally."

"Annika has made good progress. She asked for a letter today."

"You'll miss her, when she goes." Deanna took his arm as they entered their quarters. 

"I suppose."

"It won't be for a while yet -- and you could always spend a little extra time with her here and there, to help her prepare. She's less anxious when she has a plan. Jean-Luc, what is it? It's not just Annika."

He stopped inside the bedroom door, and waited for some of the heaviness to ease. "I told Keela all about you, today. And Michelle, in her well-meaning information-gathering may have filled both our inboxes with outraged messages on our behalf, since she sent everyone we've ever worked with a request for information and got things stirred up -- Will, of course, decided to tell me it might have been different for you than it was for him, being my first officer."

"Of course it was. But you know Will -- he's never been good at putting himself in my shoes, or yours, for that matter."

Jean-Luc inhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed, standing in the middle of the bedroom. "Have you ever felt like kicking his ass? Just knocking him through a wall, perhaps locking him in an airlock -- "

"I have the feeling he's standing in for an admiral. Isn't he?"

"It's one thing for an admiral you've never met to be dense -- it's another for someone you've known longer than me, who really, really ought to know better."

"Should I warn my mother she's next on your hit list? She's been quite determined not to understand me, as well."

"How do you stand anyone, anyone at all?"

Deanna slipped her arms around his ribs and shoved her head against his shoulder. "I come home and hug my husband."

It knocked the fight out of him, and he huffed indignantly and reciprocated.

"It's been so much easier for me, with you," she murmured. "Thank you."

"I don't -- " But she didn't let him keep feeling frustrated, and her wave of joy came flooding in. He closed his eyes and lost himself in it. Gradually, he came back from somewhere he would rather be, and sighed. "I'm being silly again."

"No, now you're being silly -- I know your heart's in the right place, wishing you could give me absolutely everything I want. But if I can't have everything, I'd much rather have this thing, with you."

"My heart is where it belongs." He chuckled and kissed her forehead, holding her against his chest. "In the palm of your hand."

"We need to shower and get lunch. We're supposed to talk to Lieutenant Fox in half an hour." She pulled away and led him by the hand into the bathroom. "Would you like me to start reciting all the ways you make me happy every day, so you don't forget?"

"I suppose I'm being selfish. I think about things you deserve, and seeing you be recognized for what you do, and I forget to do a reality check."

Deanna reached in to turn on the water, and pulled off her belt and shirt. "I can let you check my reality any time."

"Half an hour, you say? How much reality can we pack into half an hour?"

"The longer you have those sweats on, the less we get." Dropping her pants, she stepped out of them and dodged his hands, slipping into the shower beneath the spray. Jean-Luc pulled off the tank top and left the pants in the floor next to hers, and reached for the soap and wash cloth she was using, beginning a game of wash-me-if-you-can.

 


	25. Chapter 25

"We should make the trip to pick him up our transwarp test," Deanna said.

Jean-Luc smiled. They were sitting in the ready room, having just terminated a subspace discussion with Lieutenant-Commander Fox after offering him the position. Keela's background check had been favorable, and the man seemed quite personable and had heard positive things about the _Enterprise_. "You've read about the drive?"

"Geordi's explanation helped me. I have to think more about the distance traveled than the speed. It's like saying warp factor ten is exponentially faster than warp factor eight -- when we're talking about transwarp it's more so, and so it helped me to think of transwarp factor two as moving us within fifteen minutes to the next sector. It covers the distance so much more quickly that it isn't helpful to think in terms of speed. To get Mr. Fox, we'll have to travel at transwarp factor four, for half an hour. We'll be in orbit around Deep Space Nine for an hour waiting for him to get there, and we can be back here half an hour after that. The other factor is the distance we travel after we achieve warp nine, prior to activating transwarp."

"It's going to be difficult to shift the perspective -- distances aren't going to be as much of a complication any more," Jean-Luc said. "Although Geordi mentioned that alignment of the coil is paramount. A slight misalignment can mean failure of the drive and hours of repairs, if we attempt transwarp with a poorly-tuned drive."

"All the more reason to have a good engineer."

"We'll depart within an hour, then, after the remainder of crew on leave for the day have returned."

Deanna nodded thoughtfully. "Are there still messages coming in, responding to Michelle's survey? I have quite a few of them now myself."

"Oh, yes. I'm responding to the few I consider close friends. The rest can wait a day or two. I had just sent Beverly a response before you came in." He thought about Will, again, and sighed.

"What is it?"

"I haven't responded to Will's message," he said. "I'm having difficulty doing it without being angry."

It had her sitting up straighter, concern glinting in her eyes as she frowned. "You're still upset. What did he say?"

"He just doesn't have a clue about you. It's not just the message, that just made me think about the past few times we've spent time with them. When he and Bell visited last time we talked about a lot of things, but it was mostly reminiscing and mission related. The only comments he made about you were related to the past. As if he couldn't see anything right in front of him."

She nodded slowly, her gaze falling and the concern dwindling to a sad acceptance. "I spent most of my time visiting with Bell, very little with him -- it was always all four of us, not just me and Will, alone. And I think that's how it has been for us, the last few years. In retrospect I think it's been a combination of me being busy with duty and your discomfort. The last time I had a private hour with Will was more than five years ago, on that starbase, and you were so uncomfortable about it that I've been avoiding time with him."

"You didn't tell me anything about what happened. I remember you came home in a bad mood... you wouldn't tell me what the two of you discussed, and changed the subject. Of course I was uncomfortable."

"Because I supposed you would be angry, and I really didn't want to talk about it. And you are upset now, a little, but not as much as you would have been at the time."

"The thing I still struggle with is why -- after everything you described to me, after everything he's failed to understand about you, after it's so obvious that he cared less about you than -- what?"

She rubbed her eyes, smearing her makeup a little, and looked tired. "Jean-Luc, it's never been that he didn't care. He just doesn't care in the same way you do. I can try to explain to you if you want, but you'll have to promise you won't try to talk to him about it."

"You always claimed there was something to protect. My relationship with him, for one thing. His privacy. I find that I don't much care anymore to have a lot to do with him, if this is the way it's going to be -- I want to spend time with people who don't frustrate the hell out of us, Deanna. I'd rather go visit Tom and Beverly, or Kathryn and Chakotay. I enjoyed visiting with Corey. But he understands -- he knew when we were on the bridge that it had to be difficult for me, even if he wasn't quite sure how I was handling it. He didn't even question whether or not you could handle it. I can't see why you want anything to do with Will -- I can even understand helping Caleb, he sounds like he finally understands and sees you for who you are, despite being so completely biased and cruel at the start."

Deanna frowned sadly. "Will was a good first officer for you. Why?"

"I suppose because he thought differently about things. He had a different perspective. You know well enough that I value officers who won't fall into the trap of just following orders without thinking about them. And he was good with the civilian crew, which I did not want to handle."

"He had a different perspective professionally, and though you weren't aware of it, he has different perspectives on relationships as well. He could not comprehend the emotional way he reacted to finding out about us -- I told him then that he was a hypocrite. He was angry that I would not leave to be his ship's counselor, and he was telling me that it was a problem if I stayed to be your ship's counselor while in a relationship with you, without seeing the contradiction."

"I remember how frustrated you were on Ithica, when they made the decision to separate. But they weren't apart for long." Jean-Luc thought about the way Riker had been, those eight months, in the sparse communication he'd had with the other captain. "I have to wonder if that wasn't Bell capitulating rather than him making a real effort."

Deanna was staring at him in bemusement, he realized after a few moments of silent introspection. "You've completely lost faith in him to care about her?"

"He has to care about her, I'm sure. She wouldn't still be with him otherwise. She's not stupid."

"Hmmm."

"So because you are still trying to be his friend, I should assume he cares about you," Jean-Luc said tentatively.

"He's just never cared about me the way you do. You didn't care about me the same way, either, you know. Until you decided to."

Jean-Luc met her eyes, and thought about it, and leaned back in his chair and huffed. "Beverly adjusted. Tom, Kathryn, Guinan, Malia -- "

"None of them knew me when I was very young."

"Ah, so, he hasn't updated his original template of you? I'm even less inclined to care what he thinks now."

"I didn't say that. He may not be completely aware of everything, however, because I haven't always been so revealing of myself with him. Less so when I was younger, and all I could think about was the man I was to marry. You don't know what I was like."

"You can't say that."

Deanna closed her eyes, shaking her head. "Just because Q allowed you an afternoon in the shoes of a creepy little cadet -- "

"Creepy!"

She gave him a sarcastic look, one end of her lips rising. "Just because you were there to encourage me does not mean you knew me."

"I knew enough. I saw enough. You were heartbroken, and terrified of failing out of the Academy, and yet you kept trying."

She gazed at the floor and looked defeated.

"I think it would have been different, had I known this about him before I chose a first officer."

It startled her -- when her head came up, her eyes were wide. "Why are you trying to rewrite history this way?"

"It's more to the point to ask why you give him infinite chances to prove he doesn't deserve another minute of your time. He doesn't see you, Deanna. I really don't think he ever has. It makes me wonder if he's ever really seen anyone at all. I credited him with having better insight, better understanding of people on a less formal plane -- I suppose that means that I was even more deficient than he, before I started this more recent phase of my life, learning how to be more than an officer."

She now stared at him with an incredulous, increasingly-alarmed expression.

"He's supposed to be a friend, a close friend, and I feel the gap widening every time we see him," Jean-Luc exclaimed. "He doesn't know _me_ any more! Last time he tried to tease me about some old mission and didn't seem to understand why I didn't react the same way, with embarrassment or avoidance."

Now she looked sad again. "Did you talk to him about that?"

"I'm not sure that I want to. Why don't you confront him about not understanding you as well as he thinks?"

"Jean-Luc," she murmured, in that mildly-exasperated way she had when tired of his endless self-examinations.

"I know, fine. He's your friend. I'll be quiet now."

But she stared again at him, crossing her arms, settling back in the chair.

"You want me to let the entire galaxy ignore you. Fine."

One of her eyebrows rose slightly.

"Don't expect me to spend any more time with him, though. I'm done with it. I like having friends who don't laugh at me or try to embarrass me."

"I didn't realize this bothered you so much."

"I want to say my good friends are always welcome, and I want to say he's a good friend. It isn't as though I was thinking like this before -- it's just becoming more obvious, even to me, that he's not even seeing me -- Corey expected changes, he hardly blinked at anything, understood what was in front of him."

"He had an understanding, yes. A limited one. I don't think he understood everything that was said, he simply wasn't projecting the complex feelings that Will often has."

"How long has it been since Will really understood you, Dee?"

"Do any of us really understand each other, honestly? Do you think I understand you completely?"

Jean-Luc leaned forward, putting his elbows on his desk and resting his chin in one hand. "I'm not looking for that level of understanding from Will. Just something less annoying than oblivious."

Deanna thought for a bit, and said, "Computer, play the last message I received from Captain Will Riker."

Jean-Luc jumped up and headed for the replicator alcove, while the message played, to get two cups of hot tea. Sitting still for it wasn't possible.

"Deanna," Will's voice said warmly, and the tone led to picturing the man's smile. "I hope you're doing all right. I haven't heard from you in a while -- I suppose you must be chasing kids and cadets around all day. I got this request from a psychologist named Bokaryov, I suppose it's evaluation time again. I hope I didn't sound too angry responding to it. Wish they'd leave you two alone. How is he? I know you've always worried about him. When Bell and I came with the kids last time, he seemed distracted -- I know he gets that way when it's busy and the missions come one after the next, and that incredible epic focus of his goes into overdrive. I -- " Something muffled then, perhaps a nose rub? "I hope he isn't driving you crazy with some of that moodiness he could fall into, when something serious is going on. Let me know if you need anything -- I may be old, but I can still kick someone's ass, if it's needed. Love you."

Deanna was looking at the floor, and Jean-Luc knew she understood exactly how he felt. The tea nearly tipped over when he put it down to avoid dropping or breaking it.  She reached over to take the cup he'd set on the edge of the desk nearest her.

"Do you want me to kick his ass?" she asked nonchalantly, and it neatly shattered the building eruption of fury and left him trying to steady his breathing.

But the aftershock of anger rising drove him to his feet, and he slammed his left hand on the desk with a crack. Jean-Luc had the cup in his hand before the stinging of the impact ceased, and though he wasn't left-handed he managed a strong shot on a straight trajectory into the replicator alcove, where the cup smashed against the wall.

"Do you want to kick his ass?" she amended.

"Computer, what's the current location of the _Titan_?"

The computer gave coordinates that proved, when mapped, to be relatively close to Deep Space Nine, where they were supposed to meet their new engineer.

"You should calm down."

"I should calm down? I should have -- " But he heard the belligerence in his voice, and caught himself. She didn't deserve that. He dropped into the chair heavily. "Dee, help me with this."

"I don't know if I can. You're angry -- was it because he wants to protect me? Or because he's openly expressing affection?"

"He thinks someone needs to protect you from my moods! As if you haven't always handled my moods as a counselor, as if I'm so damn difficult to handle, and what the hell does he think he needs to kick -- What!"

Her smile faded again at his defensive demand. "I'm used to men expressing their feelings for me by pretending they need to defend me. I don't think he believes that he needs to, any more than you do."

"It's not his business," he exclaimed. "Not his place! Name me one of our friends who pretends they have the right to say things like that!"

"Come here," she whispered.

He heard it well enough -- his wife, wanting to comfort him, calm him down. But he clutched the arms of his chair and calmed himself, closing his eyes. Refusing to do that in the ready room.

When he opened his eyes she was watching him calmly. "Better?"

"Cygne, you tell me what you would say, if our positions were reversed. Tell me it wouldn't bother you."

"I can't say that I would feel the same. He's not speaking any differently than he ever has, Jean. What's changed?"

"You're going to say that I have. That's true. I want more -- I want you to have the respect you deserve, at least from the people who are close to us. He needs to stop being oblivious. I get enough indifference from the admirals."

"Then you'll have to talk to him about it." Deanna stood and turned to go. "I'll see you at the holodeck, after school. I'll get us under way to Deep Space Nine."

After the door closed behind her, he sat in silence, trying to sort out what he really wanted to do about Will, if anything. He glanced at the viewport when movement caught his eye -- the stars shifted as the ship went to warp, and shifted again -- abruptly, blurring slightly and then completely rearranging themselves into such a blurred array that the viewport went white. He watched the chronometer on his desk tick off the minutes and almost precisely ten minutes later, the shift reversed itself, and again as they dropped out of warp and approached the station at impulse.

"Computer, open a channel to the _Titan_ ," he said.

The minutes of waiting for the response went by swiftly -- he watched the space station slide into view, and then out of view again as their orbit was established. 

"Jean-Luc," came the happy exclamation as the monitor sprang to life. Will Riker, hints of gray in his beard, wearing the new uniform, nearly filled the screen. "How are you?"

It was automatic -- the friendly tone drew out the friendly response. "Doing well enough. We're at Deep Space Nine, waiting for the new engineer. I thought I would call and thank you for your help. Michelle was being thorough, I suppose, but it's kicked up a hornet's nest."

"Michelle?" Riker grinned at it, but let it drop. "How are the kids? Dee's busy, of course, and I suppose you've been, as well."

"We had to respond to a distress call -- another ship is out of commission thanks to the Alliance, and another captain on his way to retirement. Deanna killed one of the Asili with a knife into the back of the neck. She broke three ribs."

Will sobered up at the news. "Is she all right?"

"Oh, yes. Back to normal. She's on the bridge right now."

Will studied him seriously for a moment. "Why are you calling me?"

"Why do you pretend there is nothing unusual about her?"

He thought about it, looking down. "Maybe I do. Maybe she doesn't like being treated like there's something different about her. You don't."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm pretty sure you have an idea of your reputation in the Federation. You've never seemed to like reminders of that."

Jean-Luc stared at the man on the screen. "If I'd done half the things she's managed to do, I might deserve the attention."

Will leaned back in his chair. "I don't remember hearing about a Troi Maneuver, or any treaties she might have brokered, or -- "

"When half your missions are classified and the captain gets most of the attention, that can happen."

Both shaggy eyebrows rose, and Will gave him a restrained, tight smile. "You sound pretty angry about this."

"Can you imagine why I would be?"

"Is this what was bothering you last time I was there?"

"Last time you were here... I was tired. We'd just got back from Fenaris Ten. What a draining experience that was -- absolutely pointless trying to establish relations with them."

"Deanna said something about that. She was getting headaches, taking a lot of analgesic in an attempt to compensate. Some incompatibility between the aliens and her empathy, she said."

Jean-Luc pressed his fingertips against his temple, and wished he could get rid of his own increasing head pain, at this point. "That can happen sometimes."

"I've felt a little cut off from you, for a while," Will went on, leaning on his desk. "Both of you, actually. I know it's hard to see each other, being in Starfleet and assigned to different sectors so far apart. But over the past couple of years, it's felt like Deanna has been pulling away from me -- I think the last time we sat down to have a real conversation, just the two of us, was... well, we had lunch together. I think it was four years ago? I made some joke about... you, I think. And she took offense, and I couldn't get her to calm down. I obviously hurt her feelings. I still feel pretty bad about it, because I certainly didn't mean anything by it, but she hasn't had a direct conversation with me since so I know I fucked it up really badly."

He sounded sad, looked sad, and Jean-Luc felt sympathy for the man. Sighing, he tried to think of what to say. He thought about the way Deanna had avoided talking directly just minutes before. "There are things we don't joke about, because it's too close. Too serious. Our careers depend on each other too much -- she's on a professional trajectory that could be disrupted too easily by my mistakes."

"It wasn't about career. I said something about -- well, never mind."

"You were teasing about my age," Jean-Luc said tiredly. "The older I get, the more it bothers us. I know I don't get to be with her for the rest of her life. She'll be the one who has to live without me."

When he glanced again at the screen, Will had both hands over his face, rubbing his eyes. "What the hell was I thinking? What an ass I am."

"I know you're an ass -- but for some reason she cares enough about your friendship to not kick you out an airlock and be done with you, and I'm not about to let her lose anything she wants, if it can be helped. If you care anything about her, you'll get in a shuttle and come talk to her."

He laughed at it, and shook his head. "So I should come apologize to her for being insensitive, and to you for failing to recognize her accomplishments?"

Jean-Luc adopted a disdainful expression. "You should apologize to her, and thank me for finally getting the reasons for her lack of interest in spending any time with you. And then you can apologize for neglecting to worship her properly."

Another guffaw, and a classic Riker grin, as he leaned back and lounged in his ready room chair. "Okay. Is there a particular ceremony to follow? I don't want to offend her again."

Jean-Luc smiled faintly at the joke. "Was there ever a point where you saw potential in her for anything more? Beyond being a counselor?"

"Well, there was the bridge test. I didn't really get a hint from her that she'd ever wanted to do that, it struck me as unlike her."

"I suppose the way she is now is even more surprising."

Will's grin shrank slowly. "I'm thinking that maybe you're telling me something I've been stupid about?"

"You haven't been around much, since Ithica. You're probably as busy as we are."

"And I should have made an effort, if it mattered to me, which it does," Will said sadly. "Is the evaluation still in progress?"

"I haven't seen Dr. Bokaryov's final report yet. She said later this week. I have a bad feeling about it, despite all the work she's doing and the fleet admiral's continued assertions that he sees nothing to cause him concern. I wish there was something that could be done, but I can't see what."

Will studied him from the screen with an unreadable expression. "You said, last time we talked, that things are changing. I didn't ask at the time what you meant by that. Did you mean with Starfleet, or with Dee?"

"I don't know what you know -- what she's told you, about us," Jean-Luc said, trying not to sound too anxious. "About the bond."

"Not a lot. She won't talk about you. The kids, sure, or the work." 

Jean-Luc finally noticed Deanna was there, pushing in via the bond, but not in such a way as to be invasive -- her curiosity tickled on the periphery of his awareness. "It's all changed," he said softly. "She's a telepath. Not just an empath. And I strongly suspect that you never really knew enough about her empathy, Will, because I don't think she ever believed you should, but I do. Because tolerating dissonance and disbelief and lies from people she is close to is not fair to her, no matter what she says. She thanked me again today, for making it easier for her, because I can do that through the bond. I know you want her to be happy. She doesn't think she can be completely transparent with you, because she thinks you will be angry that she hasn't done so before. I'm risking her wrath inviting you to come because I think you're capable of understanding and getting past that."

Will had come upright, and anger sparked in his blue eyes, but even though his jaw jutted and his brows came together, he nodded, then exhaled and relaxed a little. "Okay. Thanks. I'll get my first officer in for a briefing and get on my way. It should take me about an hour to get there." He stared a moment longer. "You didn't have to do this, Jean-Luc."

It was difficult, keeping a straight face and remaining calm, rather than swearing. "I do. In some unknown number of years from now, she will need all the friends she has, when the bond is severed. She can promise me she can take care of herself. I know better. I know how hard it is, when we're temporarily separated. It will be harder."

Will's expression of horror lasted a few moments. "Okay," he said, hoarse. "See you in an hour."

When the screen blinked to the usual Starfleet emblem, Jean-Luc started to swear under his breath, in Klingon. Reaching across the desk, he snatched up the cup Deanna had left and sent it after his, to shatter against the wall.

Deanna came in a few minutes later, stopping calmly in front of him as if he weren't muttering and fuming. "Are you all right?"

"I've been better. I'll be all right."

She looked dubious, and he thought she might confront him, but she nodded. "Did the conversation go well?"

"Actually, he's on his way to see us."

"That's not what I expected," she exclaimed, leaning forward in surprise. "Are you sure...."

"Don't worry about me."

"Jean-Luc," she murmured, sounding wounded.

"If I'm not supposed to worry about you -- "

"Jean-Luc!"

"I don't have many friends left," he said softly. It worked; she lost some of the ire, but the suspiciousness remained. 

 "Have you made arrangements for our new engineer?"

"Yes. We're fortunate he was actually between assignments and able to come on short notice. I have the staff in engineering prepared to meet with him when he gets here. I need to be in the classroom in a few minutes, is there anything else?"

"No, Commander, that will be all."

She left him there, and he tried to focus on reports, on correspondence -- avoiding the growing list of responses to Michelle's inquiry required setting up a filter to shunt them into a separate folder for now -- anything but the impending visit from Will. But he only succeeded in distracting himself as the bridge interrupted to announce the arrival of Lieutenant-Commander Fox. Jean-Luc labored on for another few minutes and shut off the monitor in admission of defeat. Closing his eyes, he calmed himself through sheer force of will and meditated -- he should have done that first, he supposed, but he knew better. He'd never been able to meditate for long without simply falling asleep, sitting up or not.

The annunciator sounded, and when he admitted him the new engineer came in smiling, coming to attention and reporting for duty. Jean-Luc rose and came around the desk to greet him, shaking his hand, seating him on the couch, offering him a beverage.

"I appreciate your being available on a moment's notice," Jean-Luc exclaimed as he brought the raktajino to his guest. Seating himself on the chair facing the couch, Jean-Luc smiled and studied their newest officer. Fox reminded him of Ward Carlisle. Not so young, but eager and blue-eyed.

"It's a fantastic opportunity. I'm more than happy to be here -- I thought this position had gone to Bert Moreno. He must have changed his mind?"

"You know Mr. Moreno?"

"The _Dauntless_  is next on the list of Sovereigns to get the transwarp upgrade. I was working on it before I left. He was one of the engineers I spoke to."

"You said you left the _Dauntless_  due to a conflict of conscience?"

"The chief engineer has a bias."

Jean-Luc tilted his head, hoping for more information. Fox looked apologetic, shrugging a little.

"I wasn't one of his favorites, so it wasn't likely I would get a promotion there. I disagreed with him on something, and he overrode it and I followed orders just the same -- it all worked out, but evidently I proved to him that I wasn't going to just accept orders with a smile when I believed it would compromise safety. And so I was put on gamma shift, most of the time."

"I see. You could have stayed aboard until you found a transfer."

"I could have, yes. I'd rather not."

"Do you have a family, Mr. Fox?"

"I have a wife. She's currently aboard the _Macedonia_ , and I was going to settle in and then find out if there might be any positions open in your sciences department for her. She's an astrophysicist." Fox grinned and sipped his raktajino. "I checked after the interview -- I was surprised to find you had four children. I heard about your marriage, to the first officer, but I tend to have my head in a Jeffries tube most of the time so I must have missed the rest of the story."

"Yes. The commander would be here, but she has a schedule to keep -- we have a large crop of cadets that's just come aboard. You'll meet some of them on their engineering rotation, in turn. You've dealt with cadets before, you said?"

"Oh, we had a few. Captain Romero wasn't terribly fond of the practice but he did all right by them just the same." Something in the commander's expression suggested that he wanted to say something, but was refraining. 

"We didn't say much in the interview about our expectations other than concerns for engineering, but in light of the difficulty with Mr. Moreno, I believe I should mention that we have a high standard of professionalism here. We have a relaxed atmosphere, off duty, but our current assignment is such that we are called upon to be at the top of our form, sometimes for weeks at a time, and we don't allow personal matters to complicate duty. Mr. Moreno's lack of experience with ship duty proved to be insurmountable."

Fox looked surprised. "Oh."

"We're testing the transwarp -- I suspect you'll want to examine the drive, meet your subordinates, and settle in. Please feel free to do so. Your office is in the usual location, in main engineering. Do you have any other questions?"

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted."

Fox put his cup on the coffee table and sat up straight, hands on his knees. "I originally joined Starfleet after getting a degree in warp physics and spending time in a company contracting with Starfleet, because I heard about what happened to you at Wolf 359. It wasn't just that, but it was the thing that got my attention in the first place, and the rest, well, I just started thinking about what would motivate someone to stay in the service, after an experience like that. And so I started to do a little research. I was almost thirty by the time I graduated the Academy and went out into space. I met Corrie not long after that. I've followed your career, sir, and about the time you got married I heard all my co-worker's opinions, and it just made me roll my eyes, because I figured it was a moot point -- you hadn't quit after being assimilated, marriage is nothing, even if it's to an officer in the chain of command, because compared to some of the things.... Anyway, I wanted you to know before I got started that I have nothing but respect, for you and the commander, and I don't listen to gossip or pay attention to the private business of other officers, just so we're clear on that. I intend to do my job to the best of my ability, and I aspire to be an officer of Commander Troi's caliber. And I hope that you'll give me any advice you feel I need to reach my goals."

Jean-Luc regarded the engineer soberly. "In the interview, you mentioned that you had a posting prior to the _Dauntless_  -- you served aboard the _Titan,_  did you not?"

"Yes, sir. That's where I was promoted to lieutenant-commander." 

"Excellent. Well, Mr. Fox, I shall expect no less than your best, and from what we've seen that would be consistent with your record. I'll dismiss you, then, to head for engineering to get us ready for the next transwarp trial."

Fox stood with him and bowed slightly. "Thank you, sir."

After the engineer was gone, Jean-Luc checked the time. He should be hearing from Riker any time now, and not long after he should be heading for the holodeck. And the annunciator went off seconds after he thought about that. And Riker came in, grinning, holding out a hand, which Jean-Luc shook firmly, and sat down again as the taller captain took almost the exact spot the engineer had just left on the couch.

"You hired Fox," he exclaimed. 

"He just came aboard to take chief engineer," Jean-Luc said. "Despite his attempt to flatter his way into my good graces, I think he'll do fine."

"Flatter? That doesn't sound like him."

"He obviously had advice telling him not to aspire to be like me, but the first officer. Someone had to let him know she existed and that I have a high regard for her as an officer."

Riker stared at him. "It must be hard, seeing conspiracies everywhere," he commented. 

"It's hard being a dichotomy. Depending on who you talk to, I'm either an inspiration or an example of a power-mad entitled commanding officer with delusions of godhood."

"So where's the goddess?" 

"In a classroom, lecturing cadets on ethics."

"Good. I wanted to spend a little time with you, first."

"Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, whiskey? I have some terrible stuff Corey left with me -- it's probably what they use to sterilize the instruments in sickbay."

"Sounds fine to me. Who's Corey?"

"An old friend from my Academy days. You would have liked him. He had an eye for the ladies. Kathryn particularly enjoyed his attentions. Dee tolerated his bluster and left the room when he went overboard." Jean-Luc returned from the desk with the decanter and a couple of glasses. 

"That last thing you said," Will said once he had his glass in hand. "I've never seen you look that way before."

Jean-Luc raised the glass to his lips, let the whiskey trickle in to cauterize his tongue. 

"I never thought I would see you look -- "

He gazed at Will, waiting, but the man would be that way. Damn him. "If we're going to talk about this, we're resigning ourselves to having her blast through the door and kicking our asses. She already suspects that I'm up to something, based on what she's sensed. She knows what I'm thinking about. And if she finds us drinking, again, she's going to throw me in the brig, or I'll be sleeping with the kids tonight."

"But she doesn't...." Will took a swig, made a face, and groaned, running his fingers through his hair. "This is what I haven't been around enough to understand. One of those things you meant, when you said here and there that things have changed. One of the things I should have seen, instead of being distracted by how much the kids have grown, and talking about politics with you. She reacts to what she senses, now. She always passionately insisted that she had to ignore everything, let it go by her."

"Well, there's this habit I have, of feeling in certain predictable patterns when a specific topic comes up in conversation. I can think of every old girlfriend I've had and she can name them. Things I've worried about, from the kids to her future to the future of the Federation, it's like I'm hitting the same notes on the piano. She knew I was talking to you and came in to check on me when the channel closed."

"Are you angry at me that much that she knows what that's about?"

Jean-Luc felt his lip curling, as he thought about the messages, and how Deanna downplayed what Will said. About the visit with the Riker family, and Will laughing at something he'd said about Deanna's comment that cadets were challenging. "Yes."

It surprised him. "I'm sorry," he said, sounding genuinely penitent. "I didn't know. Why didn't you say anything?"

"At first I shrugged it off because you've always teased, joked, and generally been yourself. It didn't bother her that you were. I don't believe it does, to this day. It's bothered me, because I'm more than aware of how things affect her -- some of the things you tease her about aren't funny. She suffers because of them. She lets you tease her about the time everyone aboard was de-evolving due to the virus Beverly accidentally released -- she doesn't tell you how terrifying it was for her to be so overcome with urges she couldn't control and fear she couldn't stop feeling. She doesn't tell you how hard she worked before she became first officer, because you tease her about trying to compete with you -- I got to listen to her muttering about warp physics in her sleep. I got to pull her away from obsessing about battle tactics, to the holodeck, so she would rest. I got to soothe her nightmares for weeks, months, and I still get to do it when we are confronted by the Asili, again. I get to help her recover when she has one of her trauma patients -- her method entails a temporary telepathic connection that leaves her vulnerable to the nightmares and flashbacks they have until the process is completed, and that can take weeks. I'm not an empath and I don't have to be, because I'm always right there, and when you speak so dismissively of things that almost killed her I want to tell the computer to send all your messages into the nearest black hole. She doesn't need to be teased. She needs to be treated with respect. I'm going to be yelled at for interfering, because she's always insisted that it's her choice who she associates with and on what terms, and she always allowed me the same respect, but -- "

The door opened, and Deanna strode in looking furious. Everyone froze -- Jean-Luc stayed slumped in his chair, leaning away from her, looking up at her with penitent resignation. Will waited, glancing from one to the other.

Unexpectedly, she didn't start cursing at him, but took a step toward him, then perched carefully on the corner of the table between his chair and the couch, her back to Will. "What are you doing?" she asked calmly.

"I thought you were in class."

"I left them writing an essay on why we don't push our luck interfering in the relationships of officers," she said, sounding deceptively pleasant.

"You don't get to do that to me," he said, giving her a mercenary smile.

"When have I ever -- "

"Annika," he blurted. "Kathryn. Beverly. Tom Glendenning!"

"You can't claim that -- "

"I can't? Dee, you do not get the moral high ground on being manipulative, with me!" 

"You said -- "

"Shelby, damn it! And Will!" He jerked a finger at their guest, hoping to remind her Riker was still there. 

"I'm glad he's telling me the things he's brought up so far," Will said. He almost sounded amiable. "Why don't you join us?"

But she looked at Jean-Luc, and the wounded expression made him moan. He reached for her hand and leaned until their cheeks were nearly brushing together. "I'm sorry that I didn't bring you in on this one, but you know I'm right."

"I know that -- " She leaned away, abruptly, and stared at him as if he were wearing a poisonous snake around his neck. "You!"

"Me?" He considered moving the glass and the decanter out of her reach. But he held on to her hand, as so far she was holding his -- not tightly, just holding it.

"That little drama earlier," she exclaimed. "Such careful wording, to keep everything so ambiguous, to get me to talk about -- what a devious sneak you can be."

"What are you saying?"

"You know exactly how to get around my empathy. You wanted to know what was going on between Will and I, before you talked to him, and you did a lot of artful hand-waving to get to that without asking me questions you knew I wouldn't answer."

"I told you I am angry with him for being oblivious," Jean-Luc exclaimed. "I just told him the same thing."

She glanced over her shoulder at Will. He sat up quickly -- he'd been leaning slightly away from her as if she were holding a ticking bomb -- and shrugged. "That's pretty much what we were discussing."

"Pretty much?" She smirked at Jean-Luc. "Or one of several things?"

He gripped her hand, hoping to ground her with the contact. "You need your friends."

Her smirk flattened out. Deanna blinked slowly, and he felt the vibration begin, as she stopped blocking him and the bond flamed to life. After a moment she pulled away reluctantly and let him have the privacy of his thoughts again. Her eyes were sober, understanding, and sad. But she acquiesced to his wish to make the attempt.

"I need friends that you trust," she said softly. Behind her, Jean-Luc saw Will's eyes get bigger. Deanna smiled sadly at him and touched his face, then leaned to brush her lips against his. "If you didn't trust him, you wouldn't have brought him here in the first place."

"I know that I can trust him to be there, if you need him. Even though we've not had many opportunities to spend time with him. Regardless of how much I want to kick his ass."

Will snorted. "As if you could."

"Before you start hitting each other, we should go see the children's presentations," Deanna said. She squeezed his hand, smiling apologetically.

"Oh good god, it's not that already," he said wearily.

"I'm missing something," Will said. "It's not his birthday."

"No, it's Captain Picard Day, and the children are waiting for you to judge their projects. Come along."

"You didn't tell me that's what we were doing on the holodeck! Now who's being manipulative?"

Deanna stood, pulling him up with her, leaning against him. "Your children wanted to surprise you, so be surprised."

"Yes, ma'am."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jean-Luc is referring to events described in Quiddity, when he mentions meeting her at the Academy.


	26. Chapter 26

Yves ran to his parents as they entered the holodeck, excited, and encouraged by Papa's fond smile as he came in. And there was Uncle Will, with them. "Hi,' he exclaimed.

"Hi, Yves," Will said, grinning. "Good to see you again."

"Guess you had to come for Captain Picard Day?"

Will chuckled at Papa, who waved as if shooing a bug and headed for the nearest table. The holodeck was running a program that was nothing more than a room with tables, like a classroom.

The other kids were noticing the arrival of the captain, and some of them were coming over to greet him. While he spent time with each of them, wandering around the tables where the other kids had placed their projects, Maman stood watching him with a proud smile. But her feelings were so mixed. Yves wondered what she was feeling so upset about, but knew in this environment he had no chance of getting an answer, so he came to her and hugged her tightly.

Maman put her arms around him and kissed the top of his head. "Hello, my handsome young man."

"I can't wait to see what Papa thinks of my project."

"He'll be impressed. But we'll have to wait until he sees all the others."

"I know. Is he okay?" Yves whispered, aware that Will was looking at them.

"Yes. He's fine. Everything is fine."

Papa picked up Cordelia's clay model -- there were several clay versions of Papa, and hers was the best of them. At least she got the nose right. "I like Pierre's drawing," Yves said, leaning on Maman's shoulder. "Amy's wasn't that great this year."

"What's yours?" Will asked. He stood behind Maman with crossed arms.

"It's a holodeck representation of -- it's kind of -- you'll see," Yves said.

Malia was showing off a painting one of the other kids had painted, of Papa on the bridge. "He's enjoying this, isn't he?" Will asked. Maman looked over her shoulder at him and said nothing.

Finally, after examining the rest of the projects, Papa came over to them, glancing around. "Malia said to ask you about your project," he said to Yves.

Yves grinned. "Computer, load program Picard delta two two four," he said, and in addition to the tables two dozen chairs appeared in two rows. They were the kind of chairs found in planetariums -- leaning back so the occupants could comfortably view the ceiling.

"All right, let's all be seated -- Yves has a presentation for us." Malia herded the children over and the other two teachers present joined them. Maman and Will came to sit on Papa's left, and Yves took the end chair on Papa's right.

"Run program," Yves called over the chatter of the other kids. The room went dark. A three dimensional representation of Earth appeared overhead, against a background of stars. Settling back in his chair, Yves said, "This is a presentation on the journey of Captain Picard, from the Academy to the present."

Papa stiffened in shock. Above them, the huge blue and green planet began to shrink, and a starship left it -- it was his first ship assignment as an ensign, and Yves paid close attention while the presentation moved forward at a good pace that varied as the labels he'd programmed faded in and out, labeling each planet and system in turn. It took about five minutes for the ship to change -- in twenty minutes, the ship was the _Stargazer_ , and after another fifteen, it was the 1701-D. The _Enterprise_ flew far and wide, and the universe shrank when it left the galaxy, zooming in again swiftly on the return. There were visits to the Gamma Quadrant, and then it became the 1701-E, flying along the Romulan Neutral Zone, veering into the Randra Alliance, swinging through a wormhole to the Delta Quadrant. There were many zigs and zags and a couple of swings toward Earth, not quite making it back. And the presentation ended at the last starbase they'd been at, for the refit.

When the lights came up, there was applause from the other kids, the teachers, Maman, and Will as they all stood up. Papa, on the other hand, turned to him and pulled him in for a hug.

"You should give the prize to Naomi," Yves whispered.

Papa gave him a questioning look as he pulled away. "It's a nice drawing, but...."

"Mine was for history. I already got an A. You should have seen how much work she put into that drawing."

Papa grabbed his head and pulled him in to kiss his scalp, and the pride and happiness brought a happy grin to Yves' face. He kept grinning while Papa went to give Naomi the ribbon.

"Yves?" Maman asked, returning to put her arm around him.

"He won't have to give Naomi a visit to the bridge. She's already been there." He watched Will go over to congratulate Naomi and praise her drawing of Captain Picard.

"That's quite sneaky of you, looking out for your father that way. But I don't think you needed to do it. He's probably going to offer a visit to the entire school."

"Why are you -- " He stopped himself, looking at the floor. He thought he recognized the emotions, from the other day. "Are you sure Papa's all right?"

"I'm sorry we've made you worry, Yves. We were talking about the future again. It's hard for me to think about it, but he's not going to stop worrying until he feels he's done everything he can. His determination to take care of his family isn't going to change."

"Would it help if I told him I promise to help you? You know I will."

Maman suddenly hugged him again, and he realized she was trying to hide that she was crying. "I don't know. But you should wait to tell him until later."

"Okay."

\---------------------

 

Jean-Luc left Cordelia in her own bed, wondering how long she would be there this time. She enjoyed having her own room until she missed her twin and migrated. He glanced in Pierre's door at the sleeping boy on the way by, double-checking, and at Amy's door smiled at his little girl's hair sticking out of her covers like a puffball. Yves was playing chess with Fidele again, on the end of his bed, and while he was reasonably sure Yves sensed him hesitating in the door the boy didn't look up as he ordered the bishop across to take one of Fidele's rooks.

He hesitated before moving back into the living room, where Will and Deanna were talking. He considered offering Yves a game of chess, or Pierre, but Deanna noticed his hesitation and drew him out with a flicker of affection and encouragement. He closed the hall door behind him, turning to the replicator instead of returning to the couch where she sat with Will.

As he brought the glass to the couch, Will stopped murmuring and glanced up at him. It was as though confronting him earlier had flipped a switch -- Jean-Luc sighed, thinking he should have lost patience a long time ago, and that got him a brief look of chastisement from Deanna. She sat cross-legged in the middle of the couch, her hair down around her shoulders, wearing a bulky, loose sweater with her uniform pants. The dark forest green appealed to him. She smiled faintly, responding to him as he settled on the couch, sitting at an angle to face her. He held out the glass to her.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"You're not going to convince me you're making your own decisions by reacting to my reactions to people," he said, referring to her earlier realization that she had pulled back from Will, due to Jean-Luc's mixed feelings. The statement was a relative non sequitur, almost out of context, and Will's right eyebrow went up. 

"The recursion rate is starting to become exponential," Deanna said. "At some point I lose track of what I'm reacting to, honestly. The other day I was upset and it took me a few moments of meditation to realize it wasn't me. You've been so angry for the past week, I've worried about that, so I pay attention to you more often and it's harder to block you out -- I'm sorry."

Jean-Luc thought about the afternoon's challenges, and knew how tired she was. Will had been left to his own devices for a while, as Deanna had gone to sickbay for a scheduled appointment with Caleb, and Jean-Luc had a call from Command. Then Jean-Luc had spent time with Will and the kids, until Deanna had come home for dinner, tired but relaxed and cheerfully tolerating the children's antics and excited attempts to get Will to play with them. 

"You look tired," Will told her as she drank her tea.

"How long will this one be?" Jean-Luc asked.

Deanna's solemn expression said too long. "Likely four weeks, at a minimum. He's had an intense couple of months with too much adrenaline and not enough food."

Will frowned a little. "Are you talking about one of those trauma clients?"

"She is indeed. Overworking herself again. Nightmares?"

"Probably. I might resort to a tranquilizer so you don't have to replicate protective gear."

"You really haven't been telling me anything at all for years, have you?" Will exclaimed. "I mean -- missions, sure, we talked about things like the Asili and the other species you've run into, and then the whole thing with _Voyager_. But you haven't mentioned this trauma treatment, and after Jean-Luc mentioned it I looked it up -- I had no idea you've been doing this. And you never... Deanna," he said, chiding, as she shrugged and tucked her chin, turning away from him.

Jean-Luc had thought they might be discussing this already, while he'd been out of the room. As he thought about it, Deanna supplied information, that she'd been trying to apologize to him for years of not being more forthcoming with him about how her empathy had affected their relationship. And he'd done the opposite -- instead of becoming angry as she'd expected, Will had been actually sympathetic. Jean-Luc remembered his own conversation with Will, the one she'd interrupted, and so she got that message and understood. A subdued smile lit her face and her hand reached for his, which responded automatically to her impulse.

"I have to apologize to you again, Will," she said, turning to look at their friend. "I suppose I was stuck in the past as well."

The corner of Will's mouth twitched. He leaned back, his arm across the back of the couch. "There's not enough time, is there? to keep everyone we love close enough."

"I should apologize to you, as well," she continued, turning back to Jean-Luc. Her smile took on a warmer glow that lit her eyes. "I should have listened to you. Thank you, for not letting me have my way."

"I wasn't just flying by the seat of my pants, you know. I have a good memory and there was this counselor who told me all about why honesty and -- are you surprised? Why wouldn't I listen to you?"

Deanna was laughing at him, which seemed to reassure Will to the point that he too started to chuckle. "Why, indeed?" Will exclaimed.

"I suppose I did have some good advice, once in a while," she said, squeezing his hand. "I need to listen to it, evidently."

"Yes." Jean-Luc thought about all the parenting advice she'd given him, as well. "Yes," he said again, with a little more conviction.

She lost some of the amusement, and studied him. "What's that about?"

"I've learned something too, you know. You were right -- I should trust your sense of self preservation. I'm less worried now, about the future."

"In what sense?" She had previously been angry, reproachful, but the topic was now simply sad, for her. "Because I think you're probably more correct than I am in that one area -- I want to believe I'll be able to go on without you, but I'm not sure that will be possible."

"I've never heard of a Betazoid bond that would be disabling at the death of one of the bondmates," Will said.

"I don't know that we're really working with a Betazoid bond any more. Like so many other things about us, it appears to be unique. And I'm basing the supposition on experience, more than anything else."

Will stared at him, and Deanna looked nauseated. "Jean," she moaned.

Jean-Luc decided at that point not to drag both of them through how painful it could be to be separated, and shrugged. "Yves told me on the way home that he'd be there for you, so I shouldn't worry about you. I'm pretty sure he's right."

She smiled, but it was such a dim version of her usual that Jean-Luc thought about how very weary she must be. When she didn't do anything more than confirm it, he pointed at the office door. "Will will be here tomorrow, at least for part of the day. Go to bed."

She glanced at Will, nodded, and leaned to kiss Jean-Luc on the cheek, then followed orders. Will watched her go in surprise.

"She didn't argue with you."

"There was a telepathic level of the conversation you weren't hearing. And she is truly exhausted by trauma work."

"I was thinking today, about your wedding. And when she was pregnant, how happy she was about the baby, and yet all the other situations and the missions, and stress -- I used to think you weren't going to make it," Will said quietly. "I need to apologize to her tomorrow. When she feels better. But I can apologize to you, for not making an effort, not hanging in there, letting myself become too busy and wrapped up in work and Bell and the kids. I think I didn't want to keep seeing the two of you in such pain, and unconsciously let myself off the hook."

Jean-Luc closed his eyes for a moment. The anger wasn't nearly as sharp or as overwhelming, now. He looked at his friend, and thought about his former first officer -- the easy way Will had had with women, the times he'd put an arm around Deanna, taken her hand, looked in her eyes, and then all the memories Dee had shared the other day paraded through -- it was all in the past. And what they had now was an older man who had struggled with the one relationship that had survived to marriage and beyond, who once he understood mistakes he had made had apologized and stayed to try to move past it. This loyalty and friendship was what Deanna saw in him, all the ignorant jokes and teasing aside. Perhaps she had really sensed, years ago, that in spite of the fact that Will had loved her in his own way, he wasn't able to manage his own intense emotions let alone hers. Perhaps that was why he had been so indecisive with her. Confused, about his own goals. 

Deanna's presence flooded Jean-Luc, and told him she was proud of him, for coming to his own understanding of things, and additionally that she was hoping for him to come wash her back.

"I understand," Jean-Luc said, giving Will a warm smile. "You're here, now, and it means a lot to me, Will. And I know that we will need you, regardless. You're family."

Will matched his smile. Drawing himself up to his full height, he gestured at the bedroom. "Thanks, Jean-Luc. I'm going to go now, since she's proving to me how telepathic she is now -- I'm getting marching orders."

"Wouldn't want to anger the goddess," Jean-Luc said. "Good night."

When he came into the bathroom, he was greeted by the sight of long curly black hair cascading over the edge of the tub, almost to the floor, and when he reached it and looked down, she opened her eyes. She floated in the warm water, her nipples islands in front of her, and smiled up at him.

"He didn't think we were going to make it," he said. 

"Of course not. Fortunately, he's never been in charge of that. You're wearing too many clothes."

Jean-Luc left his shirt on the towel rack, his pants joining them, his boots having been left in the bedroom on the way in, and he joined her in the water, which rose almost to the rim. She let a little out, and ordered more hot water from the computer. Resting his head against the padded edge of the conveniently-contoured tub, he settled and let her float over and sit in front of him, guiding her hair over his shoulder, putting his arms around her ribs to bring her back up against his chest. 

"What did the fleet admiral say?" 

He sighed. "He said that he reviewed Michelle's report and found it to be consistent with what he already knew. He's spoken to Turay, and evidently, despite the fleet admiral's admonishment, the man feels that it is within his purview to meet with us himself, before he's satisfied that we're shipshape and Bristol fashion." He could tell she was puzzled, so he elaborated. "Meaning we're not only operating within acceptable parameters, we're able to withstand more than your average Starfleet crisis."

"So we're waiting here for how long?"

"It will take a day for him to get here. He was apparently on his way to Deep Space Nine already, to meet with another ship of the line that would take him out to Kathryn's great big nebula so he can treat our friends like naive and wayward children, as well."

"Good. I'd like to meet him, before he does that."

Jean-Luc closed his eyes and enjoyed the bath, smiling, hoping he could manage to time a tour for Turay with her martial arts class.

"Jean-Luc," she chided softly. 

"Sorry. Here?" He let his hand slide along to her thigh, and in.

"Hmmm. Better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After all the gnashing of teeth about the admiral, I figured we may as well have a look at the man, let him take his lumps in person. Jean-Luc hasn't decided what language to swear in yet.


	27. Chapter 27

Jean-Luc felt a strange sense of deja vu, walking the corridor on deck ten with Will at his side. "This is Ten Forward, Admiral," he said, hesitating in the door as it opened.

Admiral Turay was younger than he'd expected, with a neatly-trimmed beard and close-cropped black hair. He was nearly as tall as Will, and thinner. He'd been cordial upon beaming aboard, surprisingly. The tour had been nearly the same as the last one, with some added emphasis on the transwarp upgrades. Turay hadn't commented on the Bokaryov's report or anything to do with them at all, thus far, which was making Jean-Luc nervous.

"Where is Commander Troi?" Turay asked at last.

"The commander has the day off, actually."

For the first time, an emotional response -- Turay hesitated in taking a seat at one of the empty tables, looking askance at him. "Really?"

"It was as much a surprise to me as it is to you. But we're in orbit around a space station, and she has almost as much leave accumulated as I do at this point. She said something about shopping." Dee's choice of requesting leave had struck him as odd, but perhaps she had been more affected by yesterday's session with Caleb than had been apparent. She'd seemed subdued at breakfast, and hadn't been very chatty with Will when he'd showed up. Their friend had questions in his eyes when he'd noticed the change in demeanor.

"She's always enjoyed shopping," Will commented. He swung his leg over the back of the chair and sat down across from Turay.

"You were first officer here, were you not?" Turay asked, turning to the other captain for the first time.

"Yes. I came aboard when the 1701-D was commissioned, as did Commander Troi and Captain Picard." Will was being his best professional self, crisp and direct. "Admiral, I'm curious -- has there been a change in procedure, for these evaluations? I'd like to know if I need to expect a similar process."

Turay gave Will a somewhat-dismayed look. "I take my responsibilities quite seriously, Captain. I understand that this is perhaps different than you've come to expect -- " He faltered when Annika, wearing a red sweater dress with a cowl neck and black hose, approached.

Jean-Luc blinked at her sudden uncharacteristically-slinky daytime apparel, shook himself, and gestured at the admiral. "What would you like to drink?"

"Coffee, black. And a piece of apple pie, if it's not too much trouble?" He smiled, and suddenly, Jean-Luc had a flashback to a younger Will Riker at many an occasion as he charmed a lady -- he glanced at the old Will Riker, and noticed that the sudden shift in demeanor had not gone unnoticed. Will smirked but wiped it off again swiftly as he looked up at the young lady hovering over them.

"The usual, Annika, thank you," Jean-Luc said casually, making a note to ask the girl what she was doing. Her usual style for working in Ten Forward typically involved less leg and no posturing. She had a hand on one hip as she sauntered away.

"Annika," the admiral echoed, watching the woman walk toward the bar to put in their order. "What a lovely young lady."

"She intends to head for the Academy soon," Jean-Luc commented. "I've been trying to draft a letter that doesn't appear to overstate her abilities while remaining accurate."

Turay regarded him with a stunned expression, and Jean-Luc started to wonder. "Really?"

"Well, she's quite well versed in the sciences, and she could probably single-handedly build an entire ship on her own. I imagine that in another twenty years we'll be seeing some major upgrades in warp technology, if she decides to go into engineering."

Annika returned with a tray and placed their drinks in front of them, one at a time, and then put the small collection of sweeteners and a cup of cream in the center of the table. She put a slice of pie in front of the admiral with a brilliant smile that set off an alarm for Jean-Luc.

"Thank you, Annika," he exclaimed, firmly, giving her a look.

"You're welcome, Captain. Let me know if you need anything else." She gave Will a friendly smile and -- damn her -- a once-over, her blue eyes flicking up and down. Then she was off again, showing off how the sweater dress could move along with its occupant.

"Didn't she...." Will dragged his eyes back into his head and picked up his cup of coffee.

"Captain Janeway brought her back from the Delta Quadrant, after recovering her from the Borg."

Turay was now shaken out of his distracted state, and staring at him. "The Borg? She -- certainly not," he exclaimed, lowering his cup.

"You can ask her if you like. She might not appreciate it -- I can tell you that former drones really do not like that much attention to their sordid past as an unwilling tool of the Collective."

"Captain," a female voice exclaimed, and Will's head jerked up even as Jean-Luc turned to look. He managed not to completely lose his composure, at least, as he recognized Kathryn Janeway, in an emerald green dress.

"My God, we simply can't be rid of you, can we?" he exclaimed, grinning, rising from his chair.

"Oh, well, it's so good to see you, too, Jean-Luc," she exclaimed, laughing a little as she hugged him as if they hadn't just said farewell a couple of days ago. "You and your transwarp drive caught up to us, I see."

"We had to come pick up our new engineer. You've met Will Riker, I believe."

"Will and I go way back." She breezed around the table and strode into his arms for another hug. "Hello, handsome. How are you? Did you bring your lovely wife and the kids?"

"No, Bell was in the middle of crew physicals. Have you met Admiral Turay? He's here to meet with Jean-Luc and Deanna," Will exclaimed.

"It's a pleasure, Admiral -- you're with the office of the Judge Advocate General? Do you know Keith McAvoy, by any chance?" Kathryn snagged a chair from a nearby unoccupied table and plunked it between the two captains, and sat down. She turned, saw Annika on the approach, and leaped up again with outstretched arms. "Annika!"

"Hello again," Annika exclaimed, coming in for a hug.

Jean-Luc watched with growing suspicion -- this was starting to approach absurdity. Because now here came a rustling, crackling armload of bags and packages, sweeping by the table -- Deanna dropped the armful on the next empty table over, and not only was she out of uniform, she wore that fantastic topaz silk that hugged her body despite being loosely-draped and completely modest, and she'd done her hair in combs, leaving most of it swinging freely behind her. She turned around, and as her eyes fell on the admiral she froze in place.

And because Kathryn, and Will, and Annika were now all staring at Deanna's strange reaction, Turay turned around to look, and turned to stone. His chin dropped a little. He seemed to be levitating from his chair, everything else forgotten.

With instincts honed to a finely-attuned sense of impending doom, Jean-Luc did the best that he could, and sat very, very still, calculating exit routes and considering the initiation of a drill of some kind.

"Hello, Gareth," Deanna said, smiling.

Turay raised his finger, started to bob his hand a little, clearly struggling to remember. "You're... Diana?"

"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" Deanna turned her smile on Jean-Luc, and the wattage increased significantly. "You won't believe what I found, Jean-Luc -- well, Kathryn, she was on the Promenade and I knew she went to the Academy with Will so I sent her ahead -- but they had one of those jackets that fit you so well! And they were selling your wine in the liquor store, of all things, and I know we're out of the merlot so I paid through the nose for two bottles just because it's unlikely that a shipment will catch up to us any time soon." She swept up a small bag and brought it to him, taking a small box out of it and pulling the lid off. "I thought this necklace would be perfect for Amy's birthday."

"It should match her favorite dress, certainly," he managed, able to function only by dint of the calm she was projecting, as she settled comfortably in the empty chair next to him. "That would account for three bags. I think there are a few others?"

"Well, I can't show you the rest in Ten Forward," she exclaimed merrily. "It would completely ruin the surprise. And I certainly didn't buy it for anyone else."

Jean-Luc put on his best understated smile and ignored the hell out of her subtle flirting. "The admiral was asking for you. I suppose he might have questions. There is after all an evaluation in progress?"

Deanna leaned back a little, swaying, reaching up to sweep some of her hair back over her shoulder in a gesture that looked unconscious but undoubtedly wasn't. She glanced at the admiral as if it were incidental, as if moving her head while brushing her hair back were not her intent, and gave him a brief smile before turning back to Jean-Luc. "I suppose I should go put on my uniform, then. Should I wait in the ready room?"

"Oh -- Commander," Turay blurted, finally starting to recover. "There's no need."

The change was immediate. Deanna's shoulders straightened, her head turned, her expression became stern, and she now stared at the admiral. He blinked and appeared confused.

"I was under the impression that you were here to interview us as a part of the annual evaluation conducted by the Judge Advocate General's office," she said, her voice now cool and controlled as the first officer almost always was. "Was I mistaken?"

"No, not at all," Turay exclaimed. "I merely -- that is -- "

Deanna turned to Jean-Luc and waited.

"The ready room, Commander," he said calmly. "If you would."

She was in motion before he finished speaking. "Aye, sir." Sweeping the bags up into her arms from the table, she marched out of Ten Forward.

"I wasn't aware that you knew Commander Troi," Jean-Luc said, as if nothing at all out of the ordinary had happened.

"I -- " The admiral struggled with it, for a few minutes, looking at his coffee cup. "If you will excuse me. I will meet you in your ready room shortly, Captain."

Jean-Luc nodded, picked up his tea, and sipped it as the admiral strode stiffly out. Turay seemed so rattled that he doubted the man had paid any attention to the fact that no one had risen when he did.

"You aren't going to the ready room?" Kathryn asked, incredulous, lounging, her chin in hand as she leaned on the table.

"Of course I am. I assume you'll be here with Will?"

"Of course. We have a lot to talk about." Kathryn turned one of her brilliant, happy smiles on Will, and his fond smirk promised much teasing.

Jean-Luc made his way to deck one and strolled into his ready room. Edison and the handful of lieutenants and ensigns on the bridge all looked a little wide-eyed, which was the only cue he had to whatever awaited him. In the corner just inside, on the couch, sat the admiral.

"Admiral," Jean-Luc said, acknowledging his guest, coming to attention.

"As you were."

Jean-Luc went to the replicator in the back of the ready room. "Would you like anything?"

"Whatever you're having."

Jean-Luc brought back a tray with a full tea service, placed it on the low table, and took a seat in the chair. And then he paid more attention to Turay -- the man looked like he might be sitting on something sharp, but was determined to stay seated. Ignoring the tea, Jean-Luc leaned back in the chair, waiting.

"You are aware, no doubt, that I am questioning whether you and your first officer are performing within acceptable parameters," he said.

"Oh, yes. And I ask myself that each day, as well. Since I have yet to see evidence that we are not, and this has been so for more than fourteen years now, I remain as always at Starfleet's service, sir."

Turay's hard gray eyes darted left, at the picture over the back of the couch, on the wall. Jean-Luc had chosen a print of a Monet, this time, for the light and the composition and the scenery -- one titled _Jardin à Sainte-Adresse_ , with brilliant flowers, open water, a French flag, boats on the sea and a collection of people enjoying the peace in the scene.

"You question your actions?"

Jean-Luc inhaled deeply, and stilled the nervous mutter in the back of his brain that started to warn him. "Not exactly. I -- we, have a habit of examining motives, on a regular basis. At this point in my career, I've been an officer for so long that I tend to have difficulty being anything else. I've had occasion to question decisions made in the course of a mission, but only insofar as I debate the ramifications of the decision, for the Federation or for Starfleet."

"I am quite familiar with your career, Captain," the admiral said, leaning to pick up the cup sitting in front of him. "Quite familiar with your reputation, and the fact that while there have been evaluations year after year, no action has been taken to rectify the obvious breach of ethics."

Allowing a raised eyebrow, Jean-Luc leaned forward and began to put together a cup of tea. "My understanding has been that Starfleet does not meddle in the personal affairs of officers, unless the personal affairs of officers meddle in Starfleet."

"How can you possibly say that your personal relationship with -- with the commander does not affect your professional life?"

Sitting back with his steaming cup, Jean-Luc nodded slightly. "I cannot. But, as with my relationships with all the officers whom I consider friends and comrades in arms, I can say that it affects my professional life for the better. I would not be having this conversation with you otherwise, because I would no longer be in Starfleet, had I not found the courage it took to approach her. It's long been obvious to me that she's an exemplary officer, conscientious, dedicated, always seeking to improve her skills in whatever facet of her duties she finds lacking. I was at a complete disadvantage, of course, knowing her only as her more professional self -- there was quite a learning curve, for me."

Turay's stare was most unsettling. The annunciator sounded loud, to Jean-Luc's ears, and he made a mental note to have it adjusted as he admitted the first officer. She settled on the end of the couch farthest from the admiral and after giving Turay a brief smile she turned to Jean-Luc, as if to ask what was going on.

"The admiral was explaining his concerns that our personal relationship affects our effectiveness on duty."

Deanna adopted a thoughtful expression and looked to the admiral expectantly. She had startled Turay -- in uniform, she was every inch the officer, her hair braided, coiled and pinned on the back of her head. He recovered a little and leaned forward, the tea cup cradled in his hands in front of him.

"Commander," Turay said softly. And then said nothing at all, for a while.

Jean-Luc inclined his head slightly and stared, wondering, at the admiral. Deanna was blocking him out completely. He understood -- objectivity was clearly the primary consideration. He thought about asking where the admiral had met her before, but refrained. If personal business was to be left out of the professional, that too would be off limits.

Turay put the cup down. "Captain, I've been in the JAG office for my entire career and I've been a part of many investigations. I can tell you that I have seen careers disrupted by relationships of all kinds, even assignations with civilians."

"Was the commander or myself the subject of any of those investigations?"

Turay's lips tightened at the question. "No. I have to wonder if that was an oversight on the part of my predecessors."

Jean-Luc stared again at the man. "What grounds do you have, Admiral, for this belief that we are doing something inappropriate, in such a way that we have failed to be court-martialed at any point in the past fifteen years?"

"You made your wife your first officer."

Jean-Luc closed his eyes -- oh, yes, stage one. He deliberately opened them again. The admiral seemed to be taken aback slightly -- his eyes darted toward the door, giving away the anxiety, and Jean-Luc stared at him, knowing that certainly disapproval and ire were blazingly obvious as it had ever been to any officer of any rank committing blatant impropriety in his presence.

"I chose an officer with whom I have served for years, to replace my previous first officer," he said, with as much calm as he could manage. "Data was a very good friend of mine and he left considerably-difficult shoes to fill. Data replaced Commander Riker when he took his first command, some years prior to that. I am quite selective when it comes to choosing the officer to whom I entrust my vessel and its crew."

Turay straightened, put his cup on the table, sat up, and squared off, actually starting to glare. "Captain, semantics -- "

"It is a fact that Commander Troi, despite her unusual path to the rank and the office, has never given me any reason to doubt her dedication to Starfleet or her understanding of her duties. I'm beginning to doubt, however, that you are able to understand yours."

Turay flushed and inhaled, puffing out his chest. "I see that the arrogance and sense of entitlement Mr. Moreno reported holds true."

"If you have grounds to court-martial you should have begun that proceeding already. I have work to do, Admiral. If you would get to the point it would be appreciated."

"Work? You mean spending time shopping and drinking coffee with friends?"

A few moments of silence ensued. Jean-Luc gazed down at the tea in his hand, ruminating on the fact that Turay was an attorney and not a line officer. A lecture on the stress of duty, the necessity of maintaining mental as well as physical health of personnel, and maintaining adequate functional relationships with crew would be completely lost on this man.

"You appear to have no respect for Starfleet officers," Deanna said at last, calm, appearing devoid of emotion.

"I would say, Commander, that the opposite is true, and this relationship is proof of it."

Jean-Luc was caught in the chest by a wave of emotion from her -- fortunate, that he was overwhelmed by her flood of frustration and wariness, because it washed him clean of the rising anger that, had he indulged it, surely would have ended his career. "You will make your case, or leave, Admiral," he said calmly. "Because you will not succeed in a court-martial based solely on your belief that I should not be married to an officer who has repeatedly saved my life, the lives of the crew, the ship, and the Federation, all because she does her duty without hesitation. And there is nothing you can say to me that will sway me from acknowledging that _fact._ I can produce years of logs and records to substantiate it. Your opinion is clearly not based in law, regulation or facts, and as such, it is irrelevant."

"Captain!" Turay leaped to his feet. "This disrespect will not be tolerated!"

Jean-Luc rose from the chair smoothly, setting aside his tea as he did so. He tugged his jacket straight and tucked his hands behind his back. "No, it will not. Your disrespect for the finest officers in the fleet is completely uncalled for -- your attitude is deplorable. This is the _Enterprise_ , the finest ship in the fleet. She has always defended the Federation, always defended the freedoms of its citizens, and whether a threat comes from within Starfleet or without, that will continue to be true regardless of opinion, rumor or accusations to the contrary, for so long as I am in command. I do not respond well to baseless accusations or fools, Admiral. You may review Federation law and Starfleet regulations at your leisure and make your own judgment into which category you fall."

Turay stood for a moment in shock. Then, surprisingly, the tension drained out of him, and he stared at the tea pot, in deep thought. "Thank you, Captain. Commander." With a nod, the admiral stepped around the table and headed for the door. Jean-Luc stepped backward to get out of his way.

Deanna watched him go with a straight face. She met Jean-Luc's gaze soberly.

"I'm not sure what he really wanted, but do you suppose he got it?" Jean-Luc asked.

"I don't think he's done yet," she replied quietly.

Sitting down, he poured another cup of tea, added a little sweetener, and passed it to her. "Thank you, for not allowing me to skip to stage ten."

"Stage ten being a punch in the face, an airlock, and a court-martial?"

"At least then there would be grounds for some sort of action on the JAG's part."

"I suppose you have a suspicion that he's met me before. I hope that didn't influence you."

"We all had moments of poor judgment when we were younger. I'm going to assume that you were drunk."

Deanna smiled at him, taking a sip of her tea. "I love you, Jean-Luc," she said quietly.

"And that would be why I continue to joust with bureaucracy, instead of beating its representatives to a bloody pulp."

"Blustering and posturing instead of swearing is a positive change," she commented, her cup resting in her palm.

"You sensed him, recognized him, didn't you? Is that why you wanted to go shopping?"

Sighing, Deanna bit her lower lip and winced. "I realized who he was, when I looked at his service record, last week. Gareth was a rebound affair. I don't think he even knew I was a cadet -- I never told him, never came in uniform to see him, and it was only a few weeks and then we broke it off when he left to return to law school. I'm anxious because he could cause us difficulties, and he was surprised by me. I didn't want to confront him. When I met Kathryn on the station, she asked how things were going and talked to me about it, and while I was telling her I realized I was doing exactly what we've tried so hard not to do, let personal feelings affect duty -- it was just feelings unrelated to you. I feel like I let you down, running off to go shopping."

"And you feel badly about that affair, I suppose?"

"It's embarrassing. It was a ridiculous choice, what I did, spending time with him. He wasn't anyone I could even call a friend. It was a meaningless fling. I was ashamed of myself even before I ended it with him."

"Am I embarrassing?"

Her eyes swept up to meet his, and some of the color left her cheeks. Her smile returned. "Not at all."

"You became what you are in spite of people like Turay, who forgets a degree in Federation law and ignores regulations when confronted with an old flame. Dee, did you... do anything, suggest anything, to anyone today?"

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Annika was dressed rather more provocatively today than I've ever seen her while working in Ten Forward. She seemed different."

"She's been talking to me about wanting to develop an understanding of sensuality and sexuality, and she asked me if I thought she might be ready to experiment with that. She said she had discussed it with you and you appeared to think it would be helpful prior to going to the Academy to be ready for the onslaught of testosterone-poisoned young males with more hormones than sense."

"Okay," he said, nodding, accepting that. "So you wore my favorite dress and went shopping, and brought all your purchases to Ten Forward to find me and tell me about them."

Deanna looked somewhat downcast. "You think I was trying to do something to -- I was nervous, I wasn't even thinking about any such thing. I just didn't know what else to do -- I came down without thinking because I wanted to correct my behavior, not flee the situation any longer. I smiled at him, greeted him, and focused on you."

He smiled. "Good. Because if you had done anything to manipulate the situation, I'd have to report that."

She laughed, putting a hand over her mouth, smoothing her hand over her hair as if it needed to be smoothed. "Jean-Luc...."

"I want you to keep being everything you are to me, Dee. That's your job."

"My job, my avocation, my choice, my love."

"The ship," he exclaimed, making a sweeping motion with both hands to shoo her out. "Go, do things."

"This is my day off, sir."

"Well, it's not mine, so do things or go home." Jean-Luc picked up the tea tray and took to be recycled.

"You're being remarkably vague today."

"Are you unfamiliar with the things that a first officer should be doing?"

She was standing in front of the couch, with the Monet behind her, smiling as if her toes were curling, when he returned from the replicator alcove. She watched him approach with the lovely glow she never had, on the bridge.

"Commander?"

"I am going to change into one of my dresses, not one of your favorites, and spend some time with Kathryn and Will. With your permission, sir."

"Dismissed, Commander."

Deanna leaned close, brushing her hand down his bicep. "I love you too, Captain."

"I hope that, of all of the true things that I know about you, this will be the one thing I can rely upon more than all the others," he whispered. "Because I will gladly say the same of you, in any setting. Though the language may vary."

"I know. Unlike the majority of Starfleet, I know how to listen when you say it."

He took a deep breath, wanting to kiss her, and she briefly rested her cheek against his shoulder and left the room. He stood there for a few minutes and closed his eyes. When he felt calm, centered, serene, he turned and strode to his desk.

"Computer. Open a channel to Admiral Adira at Starfleet Command."

 

 

 


	28. Chapter 28

Yves put out pieces of the puzzle on the table and started to work the edges. Cordelia climbed up on a chair and started to help. Over on the couch, Kathryn and Will were talking quietly. Yves knew that if he and his siblings were quiet and not appearing to pay attention, the two captains would keep talking as if they weren't there. Nina and Pierre were playing kadis-kot in Amy's room, while Amy and Ros took turns doing each other's hair.

"He couldn't succeed," Kathryn said, smoothing her skirt and leaning forward slightly.

"It might not matter if he did. I'm not sure Jean-Luc would battle so hard if it meant dragging her through it, putting her on the stand -- I think he'd just quit and take everyone home."

Yves risked a glance over at them. Kathryn's lips pressed together to keep from frowning. Yves could tell she wasn't happy at all. "I don't think you understand them as well as you think."

"I know he'd like to see her advance in rank," Will said under his breath. "But I don't think she'd want to do it in a fleet that convicted her husband of a crime."

Kathryn snorted, incredulous. "And just what do you suppose it is he's done, that would lead to that? Do you think they've done something to warrant investigation, Will?"

"No! I'm just -- " Will hesitated. Yves focused on pieces, tried to fit a few together, and shoved those out of the way to make room for more he dredged out of the box. Will continued at a decreased volume. "I'm just saying that if the JAG looks hard enough they might find things that lead to assumptions. Officers have been wrongly convicted before, you know."

"I don't get any sense that Jean-Luc is remotely worried about any of that. I suppose it's possible, but Jean-Luc's been around a long time -- I'd think he would know if anything he was doing put him at risk, and you can be sure that if Dee was in any danger, he'd already have something in motion to protect her."

"I know they haven't done anything wrong. It's just too easy to get on the wrong side of an opinionated admiral."

"So what do you think Turay is going to do? He has no grounds to accuse anyone of anything." Kathryn sounded like she might be annoyed with Will.

Yves looked across at Cordelia. She flicked her eyes up from consideration of a piece, and wrinkled her nose. "Go play kadis-kot," he whispered.

She slipped off the chair, to her feet, and jogged around the table, leaning to throw an arm across his shoulders, and ran off and down the hall. Yves glanced down at Fidele, reclining under the table. "Can I go see Guinan, Aunt Kathy?"

A pause. "I don't see why not. As long as you're back by bedtime."

Yves shot her a grin and gestured at his dog, pointing at the hall. "You can go play with the twins, if you want."

"Okay."

The corridor was empty, the lift he rode in was empty, but when he approached the door to Ten Forward, there were a couple of people in the corridor talking. He smiled at them and went inside. The lounge was somewhat busy, but there were scattered empty seats. He saw Annika Hansen carrying a tray off to the left, and Guinan on the right clearing a table. Most everyone present was relaxed, happy, talking. Some were a little upset. There was an angry man sitting at a table by himself, near the viewports not ten feet from Yves -- the man stared at him, which got his attention.

The man blinked, cocked his head, studied Yves. "You're a little young to be in a place like this."

Yves moved closer, automatically, and finally noticed the admiral's bars on the collar. This must be the admiral Will and Kathryn were talking about. "Not really. I come here with my parents sometimes, like most of the kids."

"What's your name?"

"Yves." He stopped next to the table, coming to attention.

The admiral smiled. "I'm Admiral Turay. You don't have to do that, unless you're an officer?"

Yves laughed. "Naw, I'm not even done with algebra yet. I'm supposed to respect officers."

The admiral picked up his glass. "Always a good policy. Do you respect the officers on this ship?"

Yves thought about what Kathryn had said, and what Will worried about, and Maman. His parents were both in a heightened state of anxiety, and had left for the bridge after dinner. If he thought about Maman much she reached out to him and soothed him, though, so things couldn't be too bad.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"How old are you?"

"Why is that always the first thing people ask? Why isn't it more about what you understand, or how much you know, instead of age? If I were L'norim I would be an adult. If I were a Vulcan, same thing. Maybe I'm just myself, and people making assumptions about me because of what I look like or how old I am is silly."

"There are certain things in life that are considered standard, for humans."

"Maybe that needs to change." Yves watched a few lieutenants go by. "The humans I've met aren't average, or so I'm told -- I always thought it was normal to be on a starship, but I guess it's not. I'm also not exactly human."

"You're Captain Picard's son, aren't you? You look like your parents."

He wanted to be angry, but thought about what Maman would say, and sighed. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

"That upsets you?"

"About my parents, no. I love my parents. They don't lie to me, and they don't treat me like I'm stupid because I'm a kid."

The admiral stared at him now, and he could sense the anger diminishing. It was joined by confusion, surprise, curiosity, and something else Yves had difficulty understanding.

"I get tired of people finding out who I am and thinking I'm just a subunit of my parents. Or they just treat me like I'm a little kid, and I won't understand what they're saying.  That's all."

"Yves."

He turned, and looked up at Guinan, who stood over him with concern all over her face. "I'm fine, thanks. Do you need any help tonight?"

"No, we've got it covered, I think. Making a new friend?"

"I don't know. Papa always tells me not to make assumptions. Maybe he's trying to get them in trouble, but he's not doing anything to me."

Guinan smiled a little. "Let me know if you need anything, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Guinan." She went off to greet someone just coming in.

The admiral was shocked. Yves looked at him again, and shrugged.

"Who told you I was trying to get your parents into trouble?"

"No one. I'm 'just a kid.' People talk like I don't hear them, sometimes."

"I see."

"What do you do?"

The admiral was not happy that he'd asked. "I'm the Judge Advocate General."

"So you're the one who investigates when officers break the rules, and does something about it?"

"Something like that."

"Do you know my parents?"

The admiral stared at him, and now suspicion joined the rest of the muddled feelings. "I have been given the responsibility of overseeing the office of the Judge Advocate General. We have a lot of investigators, and we are very busy. There's a lot of officers in Starfleet, and plenty of them try to get away with breaking regulations, or they make mistakes. It's our job to correct and discourage further incidents."

"So you're not just an investigator? You're the actual Judge Advocate General?"

"Well, yes." The admiral kept staring, and he was starting to feel less suspicious and more... embarrassment? Shame? Yves smiled and hunched his shoulders a little.

"I guess you think Papa and Maman must be doing something wrong? I sure don't see how they'd have the time. Maman's tired, all the time, with all the stuff she does. Sometimes she has to cancel the mok'bara class she set up for us kids."

"It's more a concern that their marriage is not ethical."

"Okay. Well... ethics is a branch of philosophy, codifying what's right and wrong behavior. So what ethics are you using to determine that their marriage isn't ethical?" Yves considered sitting down, but decided to wait until asked. This was an admiral, after all. "We learned all about Klingon ethics, and Betazoid ethics -- Maman says I shouldn't use telepathy at all with non telepaths, unless I have permission. And then there's the general ethics implicit in Starfleet regulations, I suppose, but there's not anything in regulations about who to marry, or not marry. At least I don't remember there is -- Papa used to read us regulations when the twins wouldn't go to sleep. Or Chaucer. I thought Chaucer was more boring, really, but they both worked really well on the twins."

He didn't sense Maman until she was right behind him, and then he was shocked and no longer registering the admiral's rising anxiety -- he turned to look over his left shoulder, and up, as Maman's hand found his right shoulder. She had a reproachful look on her face.

"Maman?"

"Kathryn said you came to see Guinan. Are you confused?"

Yves gave her a sheepish grin. "Papa said -- "

"Yves," she said, warning him not to bother attempting it.

"It's all right, Commander," the admiral said softly. "I asked him a question."

"Go home."

Yves gave the admiral an apologetic smile and headed for the door. Outside in the corridor, he lingered -- the admiral was giving off some interesting emotions -- but Maman shot a telepathic dart of such ire at him that he ran for the lift.

 

\--------------

 Jean-Luc headed home with a heavy heart, wishing he was as influential than people thought he was. He arrived to find Kathryn and Will sitting slightly apart on the couch, and suspected they were discussing things he didn't care to think about but couldn't avoid.

"Everything okay?" Will asked quietly, watching Jean-Luc go to the other end of the couch and drop into it, pitching a cushion at the easy chair that had been pushed to the right, a couple meters from him.

"Adira is upset but as bound to regulations as we all are. Until improprieties have been committed they cannot be addressed. Turay has done nothing yet but voice an opinion -- until he acts inappropriately we can't complain. Wasting our time with a frivolous court-martial can be addressed, showing up and expressing concerns is within his job description. And it's moving beyond us -- Adira said that he received multiple messages from some of the officers Michelle sent requests to, and it's looking like Turay's behavior is making people nervous. Adira and some of the other admirals are now concerned that this may initiate an exodus of personnel they can't afford to lose, because officers with spouses working in the same ship or starbase will fear repercussions and seek transfers, leaving gaps in critical places."

"Well, certainly," Kathryn exclaimed dryly. "He's on his way to my ship, to treat me to the same rationalizations and demands. I'm thinking about inviting him to ride along in my shuttle with me, so he can listen to Nina's screeching and suffer equivalent pain to what it's like for us to listen to him."

"I was considering having him visit the sector we just came from, and letting him be on one of the evacuated decks while the Asili are boarding. Such a simple-minded view needs education."

"You think he's doing this out of narrowness of vision, not just out of a different ethical base?" Will asked.

"On the face of it, he seems to be ignoring regulations. He's got no basis for accusing us of breaking them. Which would be the only way he could court-martial us -- he's had multiple people looking closely at ship operations and coming up empty, and likely that's because, in his view, those people are biased in our favor. Officers protecting other officers from punishment. He did nothing but investigate and punish improprieties all these years, and so many of those cases were improprieties that came about due to the difficulties the perpetrators had with separating the personal from the professional, or sacrificing the professional to the personal, and so here we are -- a married couple in command, therefore incapable of being completely professional, because why would he know anyone who has ever successfully established boundaries between the personal and professional? So there must be a problem. It's just not obvious, so there must be investigations."

Kathryn tucked her legs under herself and smoothed her skirt over them, draping herself over the back of the couch and grinning. "You know, if only, if only they would simply teach these people to be like you -- able to see what's motivating others, who are different in values and perspectives. If only there were a way to do that. Oh -- wait -- we could give them lessons in diplomacy!"

"Or battle tactics. Or teach them first contact protocols. Or they could just have children, and be decent parents." Jean-Luc glared at the door when the annunciator went off, quietly, as he'd instructed the computer to drop the volume after the children's' bedtime. "Fucking petaQ!"

"Dare we let them in?" Kathryn asked dryly. Will simply smirked.

"Come in!"

Annika, now wearing a light amber pantsuit that didn't suit her so well as other colors, came in. She glanced at his guests but came to stand in front of him, smiling a little, appearing apologetic. "I'm sorry to disturb you so late. I worked all afternoon and evening. I wanted to thank you for your help."

"You'll have to give me a little context," he replied.

"When you came to Ten Forward earlier."

Deanna had alerted him that Turay, after leaving the ready room, had taken a seat in Ten Forward and not budged. As he was an admiral throwing him off the ship was likely to result in reprimand. And so there the admiral had stayed, being angry, and when Deanna alerted him a couple hours later that she suspected he was paying too much attention to Annika, he went -- the way Annika was talking to him said she was flirting, and in the instant he recognized that he decided. He had strolled casually across Ten Forward toward the end of the bar, slowing once past the admiral, and shot Annika a look over his shoulder before seating himself and waiting patiently for his tea. Annika had arrived moments later to wordlessly steep and serve him a cup of Earl Grey. She had seemed upset, but was suppressing it.

"You're thanking me for angering you," he half-asked.

"I took into consideration our most recent conversation, and decided that you would not have dissuaded me without a reason," she replied with a subdued smile. "And when I asked the admiral why he was aboard, and observed that usually admirals spend time aboard ships with the commanding officer instead of sitting in the lounge, he informed me that he was unsatisfied with the obvious breach of ethics being committed with the apparent support of the rest of Starfleet. To which I replied that I had memorized the entirety of regulations regarding the behavior of officers and there were no violations being perpetrated aboard the _Enterprise_. He became nonresponsive to me."

"I appreciate the effort, but it's clear that regulations aren't the reason he's here. It's easy for him to decide we're all hiding things from him."

"If there is anything I can do... I wanted to ask if I could delay my application to the Academy."

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow, and noticed that Kathryn leaned forward a little, clearly concerned. "You want to stay aboard," he said.

"I believe, after today, that I should. I would like to understand better how to feel like I am a matter of consequence. I think it would address the issue you identified."

"A matter of -- " Will caught himself, mid-exclamation.

Annika looked sidelong at him, tilting her head slightly. She flicked her eyes back to Jean-Luc. "He does not understand."

"Not entirely, no." Jean-Luc smirked at it.

"Is this about the book you mentioned, Annika?" Kathryn asked. "I took the time to read it on the way here -- I even read it to the children. It's a lovely story."

Annika said nothing. Jean-Luc had the impression she was uncomfortable discussing it further in present company. He glanced at Will, and found that the man had a puzzled expression.

"The Little Prince, in the original French, has been one of the children's bedtime stories for a long time," Jean-Luc said. "We like to teach them what's important."

"So this is a children's book?" Will's amusement said that he was still not paying enough attention.

Kathryn was eyeing Annika with a little concern. "You don't feel as though you matter, Annika?"

"I've been working with the counselor on my feelings of guilt. You and Deanna both encouraged me to think about applying to the Academy. I began to do so, despite feeling uncertainty that I was ready. I felt that I might be overstaying my welcome, here."

Jean-Luc gave her a reproachful look, which appeared to unsettle her. She stared, and a tentative smile began, stabilizing when he smiled in response. 

"Captain Picard helped me to see that he cares about me, and doesn't want me to come to any harm -- reading The Little Prince helped me understand that all of the things he does for me have meaning. That all that has been done on my behalf is in fact an expression of love. I don't ask for his help, and I don't deserve any consideration, and he could certainly use his time spent with me to do other things. But he's never turned me away, despite his original distaste for having me aboard. He decided, without any appeal from me, to care enough to make me a matter of consequence, and until this week I never felt that was true -- yet I can see, if I remember how he's treated me, that despite my feelings it has been true just the same. Because if it were true that love is nothing more than a feeling, it would not be possible to care for someone simply by making them a priority in your life. I did not feel loved until I recognized this -- and now I understand that you, too, have loved me more than I deserved, and that I have failed to do the same in return."

Kathryn was trying not to cry, and looking quite moved. "Oh, dear," she said softly, shaking her head.

"Love is never about deserving," Jean-Luc said. "If it were, no one would be loved."

"Yes," Annika said, giving him a shy smile. "And it is also not something one can force, or demand, or completely understand. I've done a lot of reading and struggled with the concept. But I think I am starting to understand it, and I would like to stay and continue to experience it with that understanding."

"Well, if it's possible, you know you can stay."

She nodded slowly, blushing a little. "Thank you. If I... If someone were to express interest, and I...."

"You know we'll help you," Jean-Luc said softly.

Annika nodded. "Good night, sir."

When she was gone and the door closed behind her, Kathryn turned to Jean-Luc with happy eyes. "You and Deanna have done so well with her! How exciting that she trusted you to ask you if she could stay."

"You're teaching her how to love," Will said. It was hard to tell whether he was laughing about it or not, but he was smiling.

Jean-Luc sighed and rubbed his eyes. Kathryn laughed. "Welcome aboard, Captain Obvious!"

"Oh, leave him alone. I'll let Deanna kick his ass on Annika's behalf later. You don't mess with Maman."

"I'm surprised, that's all," Will exclaimed. "After everything that's happened I wouldn't think you would tolerate...."

Jean-Luc glared at the man. "No, I am not teaching her how to love. I was asked by my wife to meet with her, and be a stable father figure thinly disguised as an adviser. You couldn't get Annika to accept anything at face value, for the first months she was aboard."

"Well, you can say it that way, or you can say you're teaching her to love," Kathryn exclaimed. "Because if it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck -- "

"There are Betazoid lizards that quack like ducks," Jean-Luc exclaimed. "Just ask Yves about the time we went camping and couldn't sleep all night because of the quacking lizards."

"Good God, you are the grumpiest old -- "

The door opened, and Deanna came in looking exhausted. While he appreciated the interruption, Jean-Luc wished it could have been anyone else. She stared at him with bleary eyes, and came over to fall down next to him on the couch, going limp and closing her eyes.

"Where the hell have you been?" Jean-Luc asked.

"Wishing people would stop talking and develop telepathy," she exclaimed.

Jean-Luc started to pluck the pins from her hair, until her braids fell free. She pulled the bands from the ends of each one, and then massaged her scalp and ran her hands through her hair to loosen it. 

"I thought you had today off," Kathryn said, chastising.

"I did. Afternoon and evening were not cooperative. I caught Yves talking to the damned admiral, in Ten Forward."

 Jean-Luc was stunned to silence by it. Deanna turned to meet his eyes, smiling about it. 

"He said he was going to see Guinan," Kathryn exclaimed.

"No need to be angry. He didn't intend to talk to him. Turay was there, asked him a question, figured out whose child he was -- it's fairly obvious, after all. Even more obvious when he started to lecture about ethics."

"Oh, I'll bet he did," Will said, grinning.

But Deanna's proud smile went a long way to ease Jean-Luc's ire at Will. "Turay wants to talk to us again, in the morning. This time with a more open mindset and willingness to listen. I explained to him that I thought he might be doing what sometimes happens to therapists -- that he may have a lot of experience with things that go wrong, but not enough with things that go well. That discounting service records on the basis of an assumption that other officers are whitewashing the reality is as much a mistake as assuming everything is wrong, or everything is right. He's willing, after experiencing our son being friendly to him despite recognizing him as the admiral who's trying to see what his parents are doing wrong, and demonstrating that objectivity his father has hammered into him and the self control his mother taught him, to look at us a little more objectively than before."

"You're saying that the thing that will save us is having children," Jean-Luc exclaimed, grinning. 

"I hope he's able to shift gears -- that would be such a relief, for you and me," Kathryn said. 

"I do, too," Will said. He rose and hesitated, looking down at them. "I'd like to stay until after you talk to him, if that's all right."

"That would be fine. Good night, Will."

Kathryn didn't stay much longer, either, and left her kids sleeping with Amy and Cordelia. Jean-Luc sat with Deanna on the end of the couch for a few moments longer, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm going to fall asleep here if we don't move," she mumbled. 

For an answer Jean-Luc pulled himself to his feet and held out a hand. She took it and let him haul her to her feet. 

"Annika came by," he said as they entered the bedroom. "She wants to stay aboard and postpone going to the Academy."

"I'm not surprised. You completely rewrote her perspective telling her how much you cared about her," Deanna said, removing her jacket. She turned to look at him when he went rigid with ire. "It's the message she got, and it was the message you intended, and I'm not anyone you need to worry about keeping up appearances with. So no need to sprain anything, Jean."

He sat on the end of the bed, peeling off jacket and shirt, shoving off boots by the heels with his toes. "I suppose now I'll never get rid of her."

"Perhaps not even after she goes to the Academy. Is that really going to bother you?"

"Not really."

"Did Will bother you today?"

He watched her wriggle out of her pants, almost forgetting the question. When she turned to look at him with questioning eyes, it took a moment. "Less than before. But he appears to be trying. He thinks The Little Prince is a children's book."

"I can provide instruction into proper interpretation, I suppose. It would do him good to understand it."

"I doubt he's bothered to read it. In fact, I don't think he'd ever heard of the book. 

"He hasn't been quite as much a reader as you, certainly," Deanna said, pulling open a drawer to get a shirt. 

"You had another session with Caleb today, didn't you? In spite of promising you wouldn't."

She slid under the covers and sat waiting while he came to braid her hair. "You know gaps in treatment aren't helpful."

"I know. But you were tired already. And dealing with Turay is enough of a challenge."

"The captain told me to go to the ready room."

"Damn the man, anyway," Jean-Luc grumbled. He finished the long braid and tied it off. "Time for bed."

"Only if you hold me."

Once he had her spooned against his chest, it took no time at all for her to fall asleep, and he wasn't far behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thorough look at The Little Prince is here: http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/littleprince/


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was away for a week and a half at a training, which ate up 99% of my brain for the duration. Catching up is now chewing up my time. I should be back on track soon - this is nearly done, also.

Jean-Luc returned from taking the children to school and checked in with the bridge, then got a coffee service in anticipation of the admiral's arrival. They had agreed that Deanna would fetch him from the transporter at eight hundred hours and bring him to their quarters, instead of taking him to the more formal environment of a conference room or the ready room.

He was adding cream to a second cup of coffee for her as the door opened, and she came inside first, followed by the admiral. His eyes went to the picture above the couch, of course -- Jean-Luc resisted looking to see which picture it was. 

"Good morning, Admiral," he exclaimed, giving him a tight smile. "Would you care for some coffee?"

Deanna took the cup he offered as she came to sit on his left hand. She gave him a faint smile and exhaled slowly, and he felt the bond winding open as she met his eyes -- he knew, as she welcomed the contact and shared the memory, that the walk from the transporter room had been uneventful and Turay polite and distant.

"Black," Turay said, responding to the offer. Once he had the coffee in hand, Turay settled back in the easy chair, which Jean-Luc had placed in front of the couch with the assumption that the admiral would be enticed to sit there, facing them.

"The commander told me you wanted to speak with us," Jean-Luc said, trying to sound matter-of-fact.

"She likely told you I ran into your son, as well. He's an impressive young man. I would suppose that he didn't turn out that way by happenstance, and Dr. Bokaryov said as much in her report."

Jean-Luc smiled a little at it and sipped his own coffee, uncertain how to respond. Deanna said, "I wonder if you are still concerned that there is a conspiracy to hide improprieties on our parts?"

From the look Turay gave her in response, this was not something they had talked about, but the guess hit home. He shifted slightly in the chair and stared down at his coffee. "It occurs to me to ask the question more directly - have there been times that you were concerned, that your personal relationship was influencing your decision making on duty, or vice versa, in a negative way?"

"Of course," Jean-Luc answered automatically. "It would be folly to think that it couldn't. I'm quite aware that it can cause blind spots. But that doubt tends to keep us continually aware, questioning motivations, and it often comes about that we have professional reasons that coincide with the personal. Most of the time being an officer is more a matter of identity than of simply doing a job. Deanna made decisions as a counselor that were based less on psychology 101 than on the knowledge that who I was, as a person, was different in essence than who I would have been were I just another civilian."

"Dr. Bokaryov suggested that I consider that difference," Turay said. "She suggested that the psychology of officers is not the same, somehow. And she said being part of the Judge Advocate General's office wasn't sufficient to help me understand the psychology of Command -- it strikes me as odd, that I might not understand after having been a member of Starfleet all this time as well as an officer, but it's true that my experience has not been aboard a starship. Being presented with conflicting accounts about you has led me to think explicitly about this in a way I hadn't, before. Dr. Bokaryov told me that knowing only cases where relationships had led to broken regulations was skewing my perception and challenged me to consider that I had not been made aware of successful relationships between officers within the same chain of command simply because they were successful. So I will ask then if you are aware of other intimate relationships, between officers, that have not resulted in court-martial?"

"Well, certainly. You met Captain Riker yesterday." Jean-Luc turned his head to look at Deanna.

"Captain LaForge, and a lieutenant from his security department. Captain Glendenning, who's retired, had a decade-long relationship with his chief medical officer. Captain Hannigan and his security chief. Captain Shelby was traumatized by losing her second officer who was also her lover, he might have been a spouse had he survived." Deanna shrugged, sipped her coffee. "How many examples do you want?"

"Captain Janeway, and her first officer," Jean-Luc added. 

"I seem to recall that Captain Kirk was not on a mission, nor was he ordered to go, but put his entire ship and its crew at risk to rescue his first officer. Which was by all accounts a friendship, but a relationship that influenced Kirk's command just the same. I don't believe he suffered a court-martial for it."

Jean-Luc snorted at that. "One could list similar occasions for most starship captains. Captain LaForge delaying his departure for the Gamma Quadrant to speak to Dr. Bokaryov on our behalf being just the latest example."

"Will Riker is here to visit us, not out of duty," Deanna added. 

Turay's eyes moved from one of them to the other, as if watching a tennis match, and when they finally stopped talking he gave an abrupt nod. "Point taken. I had not considered friendships, but perhaps my determination to address something I perceived as an oversight led to excluding other considerations. I'd like to know how you know about these people, these circumstances?"

Jean-Luc shrugged. "You know most officers keep logs, both official and private?"

"Many of the people we listed worked directly with us, in some capacity," Deanna said. "I also sometimes listen to logs -- asking the computer to give you logs related to incidents involving the Borg, for example, will give you thousands of entries from officers serving aboard hundreds of vessels, including the recovered logs of Annika Hansen's parents. Kirk's logs will repeatedly appear in lists of entries that mention particular non-corporeal entities, time travel, and Klingons. If you ask for entries related to personal relationships you get few, but sampling entries using the keyword 'friend' or 'loyal' or sift through personal logs, you'll eventually come up with a clearer picture of what functional close relationships between officers looks like."

Turay stared at the floor, sipping his coffee, thinking about this, and then his eyes swept up -- the picture must have changed. His sudden rigidity was enough to prompt Jean-Luc to glance over his shoulder. Of course -- the wedding picture. Jean-Luc smiled at it, remembering how he felt, and the way Deanna had looked -- in the picture her eyes told the galaxy how happy she was.

"Part of the story," he commented, glancing at Deanna. "A small part. A few hours, on a holodeck, with friends."

"The wedding," she added. "The dress isn't a traditional one for either Terran or Betazoid ceremonies."

"That was more than ten years ago, now?" Turay said distantly.

"Well attended, too. The fleet admiral was there. She was trying to convince him to move off to an admiral's bars, offering me a promotion as well."

Turay stared at them again, appearing a little surprised. "So you aren't interested in promotions?"

Jean-Luc exchanged a look with Deanna, hoping for some help with that one, and she smiled at him radiantly -- that would be his undoing, that smile, and hopefully no one would ever figure that out.

"Not to this point, but we've talked about it," she said. "He enjoys a challenge. Mysteries, or puzzles. First contact can be somewhat like a mystery to unravel. I haven't sensed any lasting desire to move out of space. To take a vacation, perhaps."

 "Not that I've been able to convince you to do that," Jean-Luc muttered.

"Take it up with the captain," she shot back. "All those cadets, you know."

Turay, Jean-Luc noticed at last, had a curiously-tense posture and stared blankly at them again. Waiting for a few minutes led to nothing. Jean-Luc considered what to say, and finally decided to ask a question he'd wanted to ask before, and hesitated to.

"Admiral, if I might -- why did you assume, when you heard we were married, that we had to be breaking regulations? Instead of assuming that after all this time, and two fleet admirals, and two Judge Advocate General's, and multiple children, and two vessels, that we were not?"

Turay's odd little smile unnerved Jean-Luc. "Do you remember meeting anyone who reacted without questioning whether your relationship impacted your professional lives?"

"It's a common initial reaction. Other officers generally raise an eyebrow, think about it for a while, and accept it," Deanna said. "Our closer friends had a little difficulty understanding for other reasons. Some were simply happy for us from the start. I was surprised, when he approached me. And it took months for me to understand why he believed so firmly that it would all work. I think the only reason it did was the nearly-instinctual faith I had in my captain, which I had to rely on when things were difficult. The first time I nearly died on an away mission started to change my mind about that. I started to see that he was right."

"I'm always right," Jean-Luc exclaimed, frowning at her. He frowned harder as she smirked.

"Okay," she said, amiably. "You were right. Counselor Troi was right. I was wrong, feeling like I was trying to ruin your career."

"It's my career to ruin."

"Yes, sir." But she leaned and shoved him shoulder to shoulder. 

"You are saying," Turay drawled, drawing their attention back to him, "that for you, Commander, it was difficult to believe that he wasn't ruining his career. But you still stayed with him."

Deanna ducked her chin, looking down, in that way that said she was embarrassed. "I stayed with my captain, who assured me that he wouldn't compromise. And I stayed with Jean-Luc, who gave me no reason to doubt how much he loves me."

"As if he were two people," Turay said disbelievingly.

"He isn't. But he has different roles in my life. He was my commanding officer. He was a client, for a long time, because he needed to be in order to continue in his career. He was my friend, and still is. The sort of friend that I would die for, if it came to that. Because that is usually why officers give their lives, freely and gladly at times -- they think of their friends, the officers they serve with, in addition to the family and friends back on their home worlds, and they entered the service out of a sense of duty to preserve prosperity and freedom for the Federation. And that won't change, even if we divorced and moved to opposite ends of the galaxy -- if Captain Picard called me to arms I would go without a question, because I know that he is willing to die for his principles, but he will never ask that much of anyone without good cause. The trust his officers have in him is earned. Which is why you will hear, over and over, if you listened to the messages that Dr. Bokaryov forwarded to you, how angry it makes our officers to hear that you assume the worst of him. Not because they are biased, but because they are loyal to a commanding officer who stands out in their minds as an example they want to follow."

Jean-Luc didn't like the way Turay was looking at her, now. The reaction was strong enough that Deanna put down her cup next to the coffee pot in front of them and took his hand, where it rested on his own thigh. The admiral glanced at Jean-Luc's face and cleared his throat quietly.

"I find myself wondering, Deanna, how it is you've gotten here. When you changed. What prompted you to become an officer?"

And then she was gripping Jean-Luc's hand, as if she needed his support. He shifted from attempting to not react defensively to the intense interest Turay had shown, to looking at his wife's face -- Deanna seemed frozen in shock. And he felt her reaching, internally, and finding her equilibrium with his help.

"You recognized my name," she said faintly. "You thought I was the same -- that's why you believed we must be -- you were right to believe it, if I were the same, but certainly it should be obvious to you that there was no way for me to be successful in Starfleet, being what I was when you knew me."

"Yes," Turay said quietly. "I believed that you weren't successful in becoming a competent officer. Despite all the reports to the contrary. I was surprised when you came into the lounge acting as if nothing was wrong, out of uniform, flaunting a relationship I believed to be inappropriate the way you were -- I was offended, that you were not taking any of this seriously, because if you were so disrespectful and he was so blinded by his feelings that you wouldn't even put on a pretense of appropriate professional behavior.... And then your son came in, being as Bokaryov said he was, an exceptional young man showing objectivity most adults aren't able to have, and I began to feel rather foolish."

Jean-Luc wasn't sure who to be angry at more -- he stared at the admiral, then at Deanna, trying to find some rational way to settle the matter, to reject the idea that this could be the case. And now he felt left out -- the two of them were not admiral and commander, but two people remembering a shared experience he had not been aware of let alone privy to, and he wondered for a bit if this was what it was like for her, when his old acquaintances came around, feeling superfluous to the conversation. She squeezed his hand then, and the bond spun open again, as she refocused and collected herself and used him to ground herself in the present once more.

"You believed that I had caught the attention of an older man, and tarnished the reputation of Captain Picard by sleeping my way to my current rank and position," she exclaimed, now sounding defensive. "Which proves that you really never understood him, at all. He would have no respect whatsoever for any woman capable of such a thing. He wouldn't want such a person aboard his ship."

Her words sparked other trains of thought, and more anger, and her hand closed on his fingers tightly. Jean-Luc bit back a stream of colorful adjectives and tried to calm himself. 

"It's not an original thought," Deanna continued, now sounding amused. "We rescued the first officer of the _Farragut_  just in the past week -- I was at the Academy with him. The last time I saw him, twelve -- was it thirteen? -- years ago, he suggested the same thing. I suppose the only people who react this way are the few who bother to remember who I was, during that time."

Jean-Luc closed his eyes. Reciting parts of the warp engine was only minimally distracting; he moved on to thinking about a vacation, perhaps something on a private beach somewhere. Not thinking about Will Riker was too difficult, as well, as it occurred to him now that his wife had likely been correct, that his brief visit to her distant past was not enough to inform him and that perhaps Will's memory of her younger self was part of the larger problem of Will's apparent stupidity. 

"He doesn't like hearing this," Deanna said. The sadness in her voice hurt. "By the time he met me, I was quite different."

He opened his eyes to glare at her, noting peripherally that Turay actually flinched. She did not. 

"And I changed again, you know," she continued calmly. 

Jean-Luc felt her gripping his hand still, but couldn't let it go yet -- his chin came up defiantly, and she smiled at it.

"A genetic quirk, perhaps. Yves does that when he doesn't like something you tell him."

"I don't suppose Captain Janeway might still be aboard?" Turay asked.

A pause. Deanna kept her hand tight over Jean-Luc's, and said, "She is indeed. I believe she is with Annika having tea in Ten Forward."

"Good." Another pause. "Captain, I apologize, for making bad assumptions. I will contact you if I have any further questions, but I will consider the matter settled. I'm going to talk to Captain Janeway, if she has a few moments, before I depart the _Enterprise_  and return to Starfleet Command. Thank you for your time."

When the door closed behind him, Deanna started to pull his arm, and let go of his hand to wind her arms around his neck. "Jean-Luc," she murmured. His arms responded automatically -- she let him hold her tightly for a while. 

"I can't," he said at last. 

"It's all right, Jean-Luc. He's gone. He's not going to bother us again. Not unless there's a reason to do so."

He tried to sit back, let go, but couldn't -- it was as though having her in his arms was the only thing keeping him in control. When he thought about that, she countered by tightening her arms around him, until he felt the universe tilt straight again, and he could start to breathe without wanting to shout. And then she let go, somewhat, sliding her palms down his chest and leaning in to kiss his face. 

"Elephants," she said.

"I wanted to strangle him," he said with a sigh.

"Does it help you to know that I love you more than life itself, silly fish?"

Finally, he opened his eyes, and found her smiling at him from inches away. Glowing, and reaching for his face, brushing fingertips along his brow, and pushing joy at him gently as he let her loosen the anger and brought him back to what was important.

"If I end up going back in time -- "

"Jean-Luc," she interrupted, sternly.

"If Q -- "

"Jean-Luc!"

"Fucking piece of -- "

Being aggressively kissed by an insistent Betazoid would not have been something he would believe helpful, in anger management, but once there he decided that he rather liked that tactic. The problem came when she pulled away, to fend off his attempt to rid them of her uniform.

"The admiral _just left_  and it's alpha shift and you need to -- " 

He caught her in another kiss. Her hands stilled, coming to rest on his shoulders as she settled astride him on the couch. His ears fairly rang with the intensity of heart fire -- it was helping burn away the frustration but they almost didn't notice the annunciator going off. And even though they noticed, neither one of them wanted to respond.

The second chime was enough. He let her go, she slid backward to her feet and smoothed her shirt and jacket closed, not even attempting to fix her hair. Letting the braid hang loose, she gave him a stern look and turned toward the door as she gave permission to enter. Jean-Luc didn't bother with his own rumpled jacket, just leaned back with arms spread out along the back of the couch, legs straight and crossed at the ankles. 

Of course, it had to be Will. Deanna hesitated, and then Will froze standing just inside the door, looking at them.

"I'm interrupting," he said, turning toward the door.

"We just said farewell to the admiral," Deanna said. "He won't bother us again."

Will's eyebrows rose, and he grinned. "Really? That's great! Did you find out why he was being so opinionated?"

Deanna glanced at Jean-Luc, looking alarmed, and he snorted. "Yes. He's a -- "

" -- an opinionated man," Deanna said firmly.

Will gave a snort of laughter, then almost jumped back when Jean-Luc began to swear. Deanna rolled her eyes, started shaking her head as he gathered momentum and increased in volume. When she started to giggle he switched from Klingon to French, throwing in a smattering of Romulan and a few other words in other languages he'd picked up along the way.

"Are you done yet?" Deanna asked, when he hit the end of his creativity and lost steam.

"Does he do that a lot?" Will asked faintly.

"Several times this week. It's better than strangling admirals, I suppose."

Jean-Luc wasn't certain he should trust himself, so he pressed his lips together and reached for the coffee pot.

"I wanted to talk to you about... Maybe I should come back later," Will said.

"Sit, damn it," Jean-Luc exclaimed. "Have some coffee."

"You've seen him angry before," Deanna said, coming back to sit next to Jean-Luc on the couch. 

"Not quite like this.  What are you so angry about, if the admiral's gone?" Will approached slowly and took the chair the admiral had vacated. 

Strangely, Deanna reached over and let her hand glide over Jean-Luc's head, come to rest in the back of his neck, inside the collar of the uniform where she rubbed gently. She leaned in, pulling his head to her shoulder, and rested against him while indulging in another wave of heart fire. When they pulled apart both of them looked in the other's eyes and felt grounded at last. Calm.

"He's angry like this when he wants to do something to protect me and feels that he can't," Deanna said.

"Oh." Will went grim and tight-lipped. "Were you in trouble for something, with the admiral?"

She looked away from both of them, her shoulders hunching a little forward, and said nothing. Something in her posture reminded Jean-Luc of the times, early on, that she had seemed so haunted -- times that she would look at him with a sadness or despair that made him resort to attempts to distract her, jokes or self-deprecating comments or resorting to quoting poetry. Will now leaned forward a little and showed clear concern.

"Dee?"

Jean-Luc considered a distraction, but thought about everything for a few moments, and touched her shoulder, letting his hand slide down her sleeve to her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers. It was enough to pull her back from her brown study. She looked at him finally, and the woe in her eyes constricted his heart, left him feeling tight-chested.

"You told me, once upon a time, that people regress under stress," he said. "That we can become caught in the past -- things that were so overwhelming come back to haunt us. The essence of trauma. You've been fortunate not to have so many reminders of some things, but Turay was completely unexpected -- you might never have gone back to that time again, if he hadn't come along. And since he was connected to the period of time when you were trying to heal a broken heart, it's all of a piece -- being in intimate relationships that go astray triggers that period of your life and everything associated with it. You may have found a place of comfortable friendship with Will but when he tried to push you into something more, again, it triggered those old emotions and more. You were so ashamed of how you were, then, that you were caught up in trying to avoid all the old reminders. And feeling unable to resolve the feelings about me -- stuck, feeling that you couldn't approach me and talk to me about the situation, but knowing that you had to do something, it was impossible. That was why you looked like this so often, back then. Echoes of failures and poor judgment haunting you. How much more ashamed you were, knowing that you could help so many people as a psychologist and yet you were so stuck and overwhelmed that you couldn't do anything about all those emotions that were being triggered by the situation."

He had to avoid looking at Will -- no idea what Will really knew, what she might have told him, but Jean-Luc suspected she had said nothing at all to the man about how Will's choice to pursue career and leave her crying so long ago on Risa. He watched her stare at him, her eyes filling with tears, and caught her when she lunged into his arms. He closed his eyes and let her cry, for a long time, against his shoulder.

"I'll need to change, I suppose," he muttered as she drew back at last. She burst into jagged laughter, holding her hands over her red face and swollen eyes. He noticed, peripherally, that Will had gone -- he hadn't heard the door or noticed the movement. No matter.

"I need to wash my face," she said with a hiccup. "I haven't cried that way in so long." She looked at the chair. "Will left -- I'll have to talk to him."

"Maybe."

Deanna smiled, glowed at him, through the tears. "I never told him about what happened after he left me," she murmured. "How miserable and depressed I became. How I couldn't sleep most nights, I cried endlessly and stopped eating, how I felt so destroyed inside that I couldn't get out of bed. He doesn't know what it was like to suffer that way -- imzadi was nothing like what we have, Jean. The suffering was all for me. I knew that he hadn't gone through that suffering when I saw him again, when he came aboard the _Enterprise_ \-- I knew from his reaction to me that he'd never felt my absence the way I felt his. I'm not even so sure that it was entirely the bond. I was unskilled, emotions were so overwhelming for me, it was so difficult to block them out and so hard to cope with my own feelings. I'd been so in love with him, and I let myself become so wrapped up and enmeshed in what he felt, and when he vanished and I got his terse message about taking the promotion and how he wished me well it knocked me so low, made me doubt myself and my perceptions so very deeply that I almost didn't get up again. How could I have been so wrong, so blind, how could he have projected such deep emotions and then been so casually dismissive of me? How did I misjudge him so completely, that I gave him so much of myself?"

It took a moment to master and set aside anger at Will, but Jean-Luc let it pass before thinking about it again. He sighed heavily. "You've let him be unintentionally cruel to you, Deanna."

"I didn't want him to know. I don't want him to know. I didn't want you to know."

Jean-Luc eyed her sharply. "You know that I have a similar problem, with embarrassing past indiscretions -- it doesn't impact our relationship because you weren't part of my life, then. Will should know -- you should tell him what his choice did to you."

"It's not going to help anything."

"You told me once that the shame I felt about youthful indiscretions was irrational -- you were right. I can't judge myself as a twenty-year-old by the same standards that I have now. We're being so careful with Yves because of our own difficulties, which were caused by difficult relationships with parents -- if we've decided to let him off the hook we were on, if we've given him the consideration we should give ourselves the same. You did the best you could at the time. And you didn't stay in your room, you started eating again, you went to the Academy, and if you had a few hideous rebound boys and a few poor choices, you learned from those. Clearly. Here I am, the best choice you ever made."

Deanna laughed at him, shaking her head, gaining momentum, leaning forward -- he chuckled with her and she kept wiping her cheeks with her fingers, trying to stop giggling and starting again when she thought about it again. "You are, aren't you?" she exclaimed.

"I love you, you realize."

"Enough to develop this subtle sensitive way of kicking my ass about my own blind spot," she said, sobering somewhat. "Jean-Luc, you haven't been telling me everything. You've been thinking about how poorly I handled some situations and concluded that I'm going to be destroyed by losing you."

He let his hands sit in his lap, sat back, watched her face.

"I think you believe that in this one thing, I haven't changed much." She sighed silently, her chest visibly rising and falling. After a slow blink, she began to shake her head again as she met his eyes. "I haven't let you get away with avoidance of sensitive issues that bothered you. As a counselor, or as a wife. Are you going to let me have a choice in what to do about Will?"

"Oh, certainly. But I think you'll make the right choice."

"All right." She went into a few minutes of deep thought, her eyes going distant, but she came back to herself and took his hand. "You're right. I really haven't thought about it -- I've avoided thinking about that period of my life, and I should, because it... because the children will be going through that phase themselves too soon, and I should be able to help them with it. And I won't until I finish the process of getting past that trauma. It will also help me, when I lose you. And that's really most of your concern, isn't it?"

Jean-Luc smiled at her. "You taught me very, very well."

Deanna smirked. "Too well. Obviously. I should be glad that you have found so few things about me that you need to fix."

"Fix? Not at all. I simply want you to be happy, Cygne."

"Oh, well -- you've already done that, repeatedly."

Jean-Luc stood up, unfastening his rumpled jacket. "Complacency just won't do. Happiness can be such a transient thing, not unlike peacetime, or any other thing that can change at a moment's notice."

Deanna rose slowly and looked at the floor. She pulled the band off the end of her braid, started to rake her fingers through her hair and walked toward the bedroom. He followed her and got another jacket for himself, while she was in the bathroom. When she returned to the bedroom she was back to her composed self, the redness gone, her hair redone neatly.

"See you later," he said softly.

"Yes. I'm looking forward to it." She gave him a faint smile, and didn't touch him as she left their quarters. It told him she was still in a high state of emotional upheaval, and she didn't want to chance breaking her self control again.

Jean-Luc let her have time to get in a lift, and then went to the bridge himself, to the ready room, where he could review orders, check the day logs so far, and make a decision on when they would depart from the space station. With the admiral's concern addressed they had nothing holding them there.

 


	30. Chapter 30

Yves walked into sickbay with a wince he'd worn for the entire trip from school in place. "Dr. Mengis?"

The doctor turned from a patient on the biobed, glancing at his assistant with a nod, and escorted Yves to one of the other beds. "What's going on? You have a headache?"

"A really bad one." Yves rubbed the side of his head, brushed away a few tears -- he'd been crying a little on the way down to sickbay. Somewhere Maman was really upset, and not paying any attention to him, and he'd half-hoped to find her there on a biobed. That she wasn't responding to him worried him.

"Here you go." The hypospray to the neck melted away the pain in the head, which made it clearer to him that he was feeling quite overwhelmed -- Maman didn't usually feel this way, and usually he couldn't sense much from deck ten where he spent most of the day -- she spent her time on duty more than two decks away and only made her presence known when he was in distress himself.

The doctor's hand descended on his shoulder. "Yves?"

"I can't," he began, but what he couldn't do, he wasn't sure. He pushed his palms against his eyes and tried to focus on a white wall, tried to take deep breaths, tried several other things he'd been taught to block out intense emotions, and nothing was working. It would start to work, and then he felt like crying again.

Another hypospray hissed at his collarbone. It had to be inhibitor. All of the things trying to crowd into his head went away, all the feelings he couldn't put a name to, along with anxiety, fear, sadness, anger, dread -- a lump that had been sitting in Yves' stomach also dissipated. "Thanks," he said, trying to smile at the doctor.

Mengis looked at him with questions in his green eyes, but let him go, ostensibly back to class. In the lift, Yves stared at the wall. "Computer, location of Commander Troi."

"Commander Troi is in quarters, deck six, section two, cabin one."

"Computer, location of Captain Picard."

"Captain Picard is on deck one, ready room."

Papa wasn't with her. She wasn't feeling good, but she wasn't in physical pain. He wanted to go home, give her a hug, and try to help her, but he knew what she would say. So he got out of the lift a minute later and walked back to his classroom, feeling strangely lightheaded while unable to sense anything at all from other people. He hoped he would be able to find out what was going on, but decided he could settle for finding out she was okay.

\------------------------

 

Jean-Luc expected it, so when someone came to his ready room door, he let them in right away, no swearing, and Janeway burst into the room in a flourish of sleeves -- she was wearing some flowing, broad-sleeved, off-white ensemble that wasn't immediately recognizable as he had mere seconds to register her appearance before she descended on him and tried to strangle him.

"I suppose I deserved it?" he commented mildly while she practically hung from his shoulders. She stepped back two steps and her hands went to her hips.

"You and Dee saved me from the admiral," Kathryn exclaimed. "He informed me point-blank he wasn't going to investigate me at all. And then he left, and I drank a pot of coffee to celebrate with Guinan and Annika."

"That explains more than a little," Jean-Luc said, continuing his journey to the replicator, which she'd interrupted with her hug. "You appear to be vibrating."

"So how did you convince him you weren't screwing around on the job?"

With a raised eyebrow, he paused as he returned with a cup of Earl Grey in hand, and stared at her.

"Jean-Luc, seriously," she cajoled, shaking her head and hugging herself. "I'm not going to report you to him. I promise I won't tell anyone if you swear, or joke, or laugh it off, because this thing had you wound up too tightly for the past two weeks and you really need to let go of it."

"Thank you, Counselor. The door's over there." He sat down at his desk.

Kathryn marched over and dropped into a chair, crossing her arms. She was, he noticed, wearing a strand of pearls. "Is she okay?"

At that, he put down the tea. "Why? What happened?"

"She didn't look too good when I went by your quarters to see the two of you -- I got the feeling she was having it out with Will, because neither of them looked happy to see me. And what the hell is wrong with him, anyway? I thought he was a close friend."

"Will is just stupid," Jean-Luc said, leaning back in his chair. He tried to reach Dee, but she was blocking him as he'd expected her to do. She always did when doing something she didn't want to interrupt his day with.

"Did you just call a former first officer stupid?"

"No. Will Riker, who was engaged as a lieutenant to a beautiful woman and left her sitting on Risa with a broken heart, when he took a promotion and left her a terse message with the assumption that she would just pick herself up and go to the Academy, and succeed in her own career without blinking -- he was stupid. Dumb, callous little asshole with about as much emotional intelligence as Ensign Picard, who completely failed with more women than the rest of his graduating class. Lieutenant-Commander Riker had a little better grasp of things by the time he took yet another promotion, and had become more of a decent person by the time he reached the _Enterprise_. And yet I still agree with you on that point, that there is still something wrong with him."

Kathryn's eyebrows were hopefully not stuck to the top of her forehead permanently. It wasn't a good look for her. "Will was engaged to Deanna?"

"When she was a psychology student on Betazed. Before she went to the Academy. Somehow, after she picked up whatever she had left of herself and crawled away from Risa, and finished her doctorate while being humiliated by ugly people who are stupider than Lieutenant Riker, or Ensign Picard, and went into the service with the resolve that she wouldn't just give up."

Kathryn slumped a little, glanced around. "You're angry," she said softly.

"You started this conversation. I was fine until you showed up."

"No, you were sitting here ruminating about things. I'm a convenient target. Don't forget I'm just as good at this as you." Janeway yanked her foot up and balanced her ankle on her knee, propping an elbow on the arm of her chair with a finger to her lips. She waved that finger at him. "She served with the two of you for a long time, and you weren't aware of everything until you got together with her -- they were fine, all that time. Why are you so angry now?"

"He's her friend, he's my friend, I get frustrated with him after we see him and then somehow it all goes out the airlock when I look at him. It's like trying to get angry at my desk for not being a chair. She accepts him as he is, and when he wanted her to go with him when he got the fourth pip, she let him throw tantrums and stayed with me. She clearly developed such brilliance that she made better choices later in life, and here we are."

Kathryn snorted ungracefully. "Of course. So you think Will is a desk."

"Damn it, Kathryn!"

"I almost follow what you say most of the time, but -- Jean-Luc?"

He was distracted for a moment by a flicker of warning from Deanna, and shook himself a little. "Sorry."

"What did she tell you?"

While he was frowning at her, the annunciator announced the arrival of a lieutenant from sciences. It took him a moment of staring at the young man standing at attention behind Kathryn's chair to recognize him. "To what do we owe the pleasure, Mr. McManis?"

The lieutenant swallowed nervously. "Um... sir."

"You don't have an appointment. Were you sent to see me, perhaps?"

"I'm not really sure... Annika said I should come speak to you, sir," he said hesitantly.

Ignoring Kathryn's grin, he waved a hand. "At ease, then. You seem to be confused -- am I to presume she didn't explain why?"

"She didn't, sir."

"Did you by any chance ask her to have coffee, or perhaps dinner, with you?"

The blush in his cheeks was faint, but noticeable. "Yes, sir."

"Okay." He tried not to smile. "Well then. When you speak with her again, you can inform her that I thoroughly interviewed you and found you acceptable as a companion for her. I can assume that you will treat her in an honest and respectful manner, yes?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Dismissed."

Once the lieutenant was gone, Kathryn started to laugh. "How wonderful," she exclaimed. "She trusts your judgment."

"We'll see."

"Maybe we should go check on Dee," Kathryn said, making him wonder what she'd witnessed in his quarters.

"You're assuming she needs intervention? Was he accosting her with a weapon?"

Kathryn gave him Auntie Janeway's Look of Scolding. "Of course not! She looked quite distressed, that's all."

"I left something in my office anyway." He didn't want to admit that he was worried. If all he'd gotten was a warning, since obviously Annika's feckless swain had been too nervous to ask the computer where the captain was and blundered into his quarters.... Perhaps Dee needed a break.

He wasn't surprised to see her crying, or the state of Will's hair -- he was pushing his fingers through it again when Jean-Luc came in. She had her head bowed, her eyes closed, and didn't look when the door opened.

"Dee?" he asked, coming to a halt in the middle of the room and crossing his arms.

She held up a hand, without looking, and he took it for an invitation and sat next to her. She did look at him then, her expression a work of art with nuances of all the major emotions he expected. It was the kind of expression he'd offer a drink, except he knew better than to try.

Will had a defeated look on his face and was staring at the floor. Kathryn sized up the situation and came to put a hand on Will's shoulder. "Come on, sailor. Buy me a drink?"

Jean-Luc watched them leave the room. Once the door closed behind them, Deanna sighed and almost collapsed into his arms.

"I'm afraid to ask."

Another sigh, her ribs pushing against his. "It wasn't one of those conversations with a neat ending. There really is nothing to say -- he doesn't know how to react, because it's been so long. I told him I wished I had explained it to him a long time ago, but when we saw each other after all those years we were trying to have a professional relationship instead, and then the lines started to blur as we became friends. And then he would say things that made me wonder if he might try to be more than friends, and I did my best not to react to those, but -- "

Jean-Luc knew there was more to say, and waited for it. The distress she felt was obvious to him, in the tension he could feel in her muscles. Her face was turned away, as she rested her cheek on his shoulder, but he knew she was on the verge of tears.

"I didn't have a clear idea what I wanted, either," she said at last. "But something always held me back when he started to act like he was interested in more, again. And after we came aboard the new ship, it felt like things had changed. I wonder if it had to do with the time we spent apart, those months I was teaching, and then I went traveling with Mother for a few weeks. Then I fell for you.... It became so much clearer then, that Will and I wouldn't have worked out at all. Just seeing how he reacted when I told him no -- even if he spoke calmly, the anger he felt toward me was disturbing to me."

Jean-Luc thought about all the times he'd been angry over the past few weeks, but she pulled away and smiled wearily at him, taking his hand. "I can't say that you don't get angry at me, but you don't do it often. You more often become angry on my behalf, at others. When you do get angry at me it's usually not about something personal."

"Are these things Will would get angry about real or imagined offenses? I'm having difficulty seeing how anything you do could be construed as hurtful."

"Different people have different sensitivities. I imagine Will could mock you openly, but his amusement at something I struggled with in the past can infuriate you. And that he doesn't seem to pick up on your discomfort, or mine, bothers you. Will doesn't do well with uncertainty in the personal realm, and he doesn't know how to respond to your anger, because you were his father figure and he hardly knew what to do with his own father. I wonder if the anger he had toward us was more to do with losing you to me."

The anger at that was hard to put aside again. Jean-Luc closed his eyes, rather than watch her react to it. "I seem to recall," he said calmly, slowly, "that Will came to some sort of consensus with his father."

"You and I both know that doesn't always mean that the problem was resolved."

"All I know about his father was his professional record -- I don't recall that he struck me as particularly paternal."

There was an undercurrent of anger in Deanna's voice that shocked him. "Kyle left his thirteen year old son on his own, to fend for himself. Will sees that as something that taught him how to be independent. I found it disturbing, before, but after we had Yves, it was infuriating to me."

Jean-Luc opened his eyes, only to see the fury in her eyes. "I can't imagine leaving a boy on his own that way. I had no idea."

"Why are you so angry that Will looks to you that way?"

"I'm not his father, or any facsimile of it. I thought of him as a friend, or only occasionally as a younger officer in need of a mentor. He asked my advice on several occasions, especially when offered command. It kept him tethered to the _Enterprise_ , didn't it?"

Deanna nodded, pressing her lips together. "The atmosphere you created did. We were a family. It was extremely powerful, for him. Something he'd never had before. I even told him that, today, that he found being aboard the _Enterprise_  to be more attractive to him than being with me -- I was not enough to so much as give him a moment of doubt, when he got that promotion, yet he refused how many vessels because he couldn't leave?"

"What else did you tell him?"

"Too many things. That I knew he valued honesty, above so many other things, yet I also knew that being completely honest sometimes would have caused too much conflict with him. I told him that the things he becomes so angry about are clues that he needs counseling. I told him that years ago, as well, but I know that he never went."

"He didn't seem angry when I came in," Jean-Luc said. "Stunned?"

"Overwhelmed," Deanna said softly. Regret tinged her expression. "When he came in, he was talking about reading The Little Prince -- he was already feeling guilty. He said it rewrote a lot of things for him. I warned him that it wasn't that simple and not to read too much into the past. There were a lot of reasons you and he were friends, most of them to do with a mutual respect on a professional plane. I tried to explain to him that we've all changed and he can't expect to be gone for month after month without contact and have everything stay the same."

He considered the conversation he'd had with Will over subspace. "He said you never talk to him about me any more. Why is that?"

She shook her head, looking unhappy. "I told him some time ago that I don't like the way he goes overboard with teasing. It's become his defense against feeling uncomfortable."

"That makes sense." Jean-Luc thought about Will's amusement over Annika, and wondered. "I haven't talked to him about Annika. Have you?"

"No. Why?"

"We don't tend to include her in family outings. I think he's only encountered her when she's working in Ten Forward, other than when she came here the other night."

"You were uncomfortable having her spend time with the children." They also didn't tend to allow the children to mix with the crew, other than designated babysitters, school functions with other parents and their children, or visits to Ten Forward. He'd always hesitated to allow the children the run of the ship, though they trusted them at times to make their way to and from school as they got older. 

"Do you have any reservations about changing that?"

Deanna narrowed her eyes. "You have some scheme percolating," she commented.

"Nothing so dire as that. Annika sent a young man to the ready room for me to assess on her behalf."

"And you are consistent," Deanna said, smiling fondly. "If she's going to react to you as if you are her father -- "

"Yes. Well. Unlike Will, she appears to be making things uncomplicated and easy to interpret. She responded well to her interpretation of her role in my life. I think that bodes well for our being able to trust her not to behave unpredictably toward the children."

"When are we departing the station? I can schedule a picnic for us, include Kathryn as she will want to be there, no doubt."

"I'm thinking that, since we have some leeway to shake down our new transwarp engines and our new engineer, we will take Will back to his ship. And if Kathryn wants to stick around we can drop her off as well, and then return to our own sector, to get back to our not-time-sensitive assignment."

"So I can schedule the picnic for after school today. And then I get to watch your evil plan unfold."

"There's no evil plan. If Will wants to see how things have changed, actions speak louder than words. If he wants to open his eyes and join the evolution, we'll give him a chance."

"I'll wash my face and join you on the bridge."

Jean-Luc kept her from getting up with a hand on her arm, and leaned in to kiss her. It became more involved than he'd anticipated, and when they parted both were a little breathless.

"Perhaps we should also make him babysit tonight," Jean-Luc murmured.

It put a glow in her eyes. "That's an evil plan I can support."

He got up, tugging his jacket straight, and went into motion, mostly to prevent further distraction. "If Kathryn supervises," he added.

"To protect him from Yves?"

"Now, now, stop trying to make me rethink it too much."

 


	31. Chapter 31

Jean-Luc arrived to get the children on time with a dozen other parents, and was unsurprised by the edge of anxiety evident in their greetings -- Cordelia in particular could be clingy when Deanna was going through something painful. Yves walked with him, a slightly-dazed look on his face.

"You had to visit sickbay?"

Yves nodded. "He gave me inhibitor, too. Is Maman okay?"

One question, softly spoken, and all four of them were crowding around Jean-Luc anxious to hear the answer. Cordy threw her arms around his waist. "Of course. We're going to holodeck four for a visit to the house, in fact." 

Jean-Pierre grinned, and Amy said, "On Betazed?"

"Not today. We're going to LaBarre."

At least Amy only pouted for a few seconds. She shoved in against his abdomen and leaned into him, reaching as far around as she could, so now both girls were trying to break his ribs. "Papa, is Aunt Kathy still here?"

"Yes, Nina and Rosalind will be there."

"We're going to be with them until bedtime, and Aunt Kathy is babysitting," Yves said.

"How do you know?" Cordelia said as Jean-Luc started to walk and she had to let go of him.

"He's wearing Maman's favorite pants."

As the lift door opened, Jean-Luc guided the girls in, and aimed a slow kick at Yves -- he laughed and dodged after his sisters. Jean-Pierre didn't even look at him and darted into the lift.

They arrived none too soon, as the girls had started to quibble about what game they wanted to play. At the sight of Kathryn and her daughters they stopped and raced down the corridor to bounce around and chatter excitedly. The four of them ran into the opening holodeck doors. "Girls," Pierre intoned grumpily as he walked after them. 

"Are you all right, Yves?" Kathryn asked when he stayed close under Jean-Luc's arm.

"A little lightheaded. I guess Dr. Mengis gave me a pretty strong dose this time. It's starting to wear off a little, though."

"Will is already here," Kathryn said. "Deanna just let me know she's on the way with Annika."

"Fidele should be waiting inside as well," Jean-Luc told Yves. "We asked the computer to put up the tennis court in the back yard, if you're interested."

"Okay." Yves went ahead of them up the front walk toward the house. 

"I didn't know you included Annika in family outings," Kathryn said as they walked in together. 

"This will be the first time."

The door closed behind them, only to open a moment later to admit the last two -- Annika was in slacks and a long-sleeved blue shirt. She smiled when she saw them. Deanna had clearly explained this to her. When the two of them came up to where he and Kathryn waited, however, Annika put her hands behind her back and looked at the ground.

"Perhaps we could come to an understanding on something?" he asked. "If you should decide to send me another young man to interview, suggest that he make an appointment?"

Annika blushed and shrugged a little. "I was uncertain afterward that I had done the right thing in telling him to see you. I didn't -- we didn't discuss parameters, when you said you would help me."

"What did he tell you?"

"That you had suggested to tell me that you had discussed the matter. But he confessed that was not the case, and said that you merely instructed him to be honest and respectful."

"Then he's been honest, so he should do nicely," Jean-Luc said. He raised an eyebrow at Deanna. "What the hell are you doing in uniform?"

"Some of us were occupied doing other things before the end of the shift," she replied as she removed her jacket. "You can scold me later, when you take me out for dinner."

"Promise?"

"God," Kathryn muttered, rushing past them up the walk. "It's going to be one of those."

Annika now looked alarmed, not just anxious. Jean-Luc realized that in addition to never having been along for one of the family outings, she had typically spent time with one or the other of her two mentors -- and the times both of them had been in the room, they'd both been on duty. He gave Dee a look, and she nodded, a little chagrined.

"Annika, please don't feel alarmed if he flirts with me. He's out of uniform. You should know that we aren't so formal off duty, and he's not like Kathryn -- there's a difference between his on-duty persona and off duty. He suggested that we should include you today based on the fact that you've felt comfortable enough to give him a more paternal role in your life. If it's too uncomfortable, please don't feel obligated to stay."

Her wide blue eyes swept from Deanna's face to his. "I'd like to stay," she said softly.

"Come on in, then. This is, by the way, a simulation of the Picard home in France," he told her as he led the way up the walk. "I can give you a tour, if you like. The winery is in the back."

"I would enjoy that," she said, her smile audible. 

Kathryn had joined Will in the living room, and an open bottle of wine already sat on an end table next to an ornate lamp. Will's eyebrows went up at the sight of Annika. "You remember Captain Riker, I believe," Jean-Luc said smoothly. 

"I do."

"I read your favorite book," Will said, watching Annika seat herself on the long sofa in front of the window. He'd taken the wingback chair that had always been Maman's favorite.

"I wasn't aware that you enjoyed the works of Ayn Rand," Annika said. Jean-Luc turned to accept a glass of burgundy from Kathryn, who'd poured him one, and exchanged a smirk with her -- one would have to have engaged Annika in extended conversations for a while to hear the hint of amusement under the statement.

"I was talking about the book you were discussing the other day," Will said, a little red-faced.

"The Little Prince? Did you learn anything? I found it most enlightening."

Will watched Jean-Luc cross in front of him to settle in the wingback chair tucked in the corner to the left of the fireplace. "I did indeed. Where did Deanna go?"

"Probably upstairs to change. Someone took exception to her uniform," Kathryn said, bringing a glass of wine to Annika and folding herself down into the soft cushions next to her. She gracefully crossed her legs and dangled her own wine glass in her fingers.

"She's off duty. There have been times she's spent three consecutive weeks in uniform, she doesn't need to wear it today." Jean-Luc took a sip from his glass.

"Oh, yes, as comfortable as it's designed to be, the damned thing tends to feel like a set of manacles after a few days of nonstop alerts, doesn't it?" Kathryn exclaimed.

"How old is this house?" Annika said, looking up at the molded ceiling.

"The style is ancient. The house itself is at least two centuries old -- many things have been replaced, multiple times, of course. My great-great-grandfather modeled it after the previous home, which was in Alsace."

Somewhere upstairs, screaming started -- many footsteps pattered back and forth, and then things went quiet. "That sounded like Cordie," Kathryn said.

"The children are on edge. They know well enough when one or both of us is under stress or in pain."

Will hid his mouth behind his wine glass. "I thought they weren't empathic yet."

"Not quite yet, but they're sensitive to their parents as most Betazoid children are." 

"Children of many species are sensitive to their parents," Annika remarked. "I always knew when my mother was upset."

Will stared over the rim of his glass at her for a moment. "You remember them?"

The faint disdain on her face did not go unnoticed. Kathryn sipped wine, pretending to be very interested in the bland landscape painting on the opposite wall. Annika nodded. "Of course. I was six years old when I was assimilated."

Deanna returned then, breezing into the room in a flowing red skirt that had a bit of a ruffle around the hem, and a matching button-down shirt over a tight white short-sleeved shirt. Jean-Luc wondered what she'd been into recently that she'd chosen such an unusual outfit. She hesitated, as while there was room on the sofa it would be crowded and there were no more chairs, and then crossed the room, pivoted, folded her legs under her, and sat on the floor in front of Jean-Luc's chair, using his legs as a back rest. She waved her fingers at the top of her head; handing his wine glass down to her over her shoulder, he started picking hair pins out of her braids while she sipped.

"All the kids are in Amy's room except for Yves -- he and Fidele escaped out the side door bound for the treehouse and a good book."

"Good. I hope he's reading Chaucer."

"You're just saying that to tease me. You know he's reading some of the books Ben left for him. I think he had some fiction based on the early years of Captain Archer's _Enterprise_."

"I understand Captain Archer had a family," Annika said.

"That was after he returned from space," Kathryn put in. "He and his dog came home, he spoke at the inauguration of the Federation, he met his future wife, and lived happily ever after."

"No one ever says anything about the first officer," Deanna said, starting to run fingers through the loose braids as Jean-Luc liberated them. 

Jean-Luc found the last pin and dropped it on the pile on the end table. "Not as such, no. T'Pol married the engineer and became quite famous on Vulcan. She found notoriety in other ways. You know, first officers often go on to become captains and then admirals -- that may be why there aren't too many famous ones. Perhaps you'll buck the trend?"

"I suppose you could promote her and step in as ship's barber," Will said.

Jean-Luc had heard something similar before, and was prepared to ignore it. Deanna stiffened perceptibly against his shins. Kathryn swung her arm to place her wine glass on the end table and gazed at Will in annoyance.

"I thought you said you read The Little Prince," she drawled.

Will's amusement at his own joke dwindled rapidly. 

"I'll go get another glass and get you more wine," Deanna said, turning as she rose from the floor to smile at Jean-Luc. Her hair swung around her in long curled masses as it usually did after being tightly confined all day. When she had silently passed out of the room, Annika turned to Jean-Luc.

"Are the things in the cabinet heirlooms?" She had to mean the cabinet behind Will, in the corner. The swan still occupied the top shelf, center.

"Holographic representations of them, yes. Everything in the house is accurate to the actual house. There's even a copy of The Little Prince upstairs in a bookcase. The wood floor in the front hall is the same one I stood on, the first time I met Deanna."

At that tidbit Kathryn perked up, rising a little as she sat forward on the cushions. "You met her on the _Enterprise_ , I thought."

"I met her when I was twenty-one years old."

Confusion, in Annika's face as well as Kathryn's, and Will snorted. "This was that time Q was messing around with you?"

Kathryn rolled her eyes. "Oh, well then! But it certainly sounds like it was more appealing than some of your other adventures with Q."

"The rest of that adventure was anything but appealing. But long afterward we determined that piece was actually true -- for some reason, he sent her here, and she met my mother. I'd forgotten all about it until my sister-in-law mentioned Maman's referring to a woman named Diana that she believed I'd brought home from Starfleet."

Deanna heard him as she returned with a bottle in one hand and a glass in the other. "Yvette was a beautiful woman. She wanted me to stay for dinner. It felt real, so I ran for it instead of playing with the timeline at all."

"She let me have it for letting you get away. My ears rang for a week." He finished what was left in his glass, and held it out for her to pour merlot in.

Deanna looked down at him with an amused smile. "I can imagine." She poured herself half a glass and offered some to Kathryn, who took some, and went to give Will the rest and put the bottle next to the first one.

"I would have stayed for dinner," Will said.

"It was certainly tempting," Deanna said, returning to Jean-Luc and perching on the padded arm of the chair he was sitting in. "I could have stayed and let you keep flirting with me. I could have been that mysterious woman who blew in one evening, captivated you, and disappeared for years, until one day a message pops up in your box to meet me in that special booth at Rastigan's, on the third of May, at six in the evening -- and there I am. Because of course I also sent myself a message before vanishing, with a time delay, warning myself to avoid all those younger men and their fickle, careless ways, and go to the restaurant at that time, on that day, to meet the perfect man."

"Damn the Temporal Prime Directive -- I'll meet you in the shuttle bay. If you need a partner in time crime," Kathryn exclaimed. "If you promise to introduce me and let me officiate at the wedding."

"I don't know," Deanna said, wrinkling her brow and sweeping her fingertips along his brow. "I'm not too sure about the hair. I think I like him better without it."

"You're trying to make me growl at you."

"If I were trying you would be growling." Deanna rested the rim of her glass against her lower lip and smiled.

Annika turned to Kathryn, who was rolling her eyes. "Is this flirting?"

"It's just the way they are, don't bother taking notes. There are simple, effective methods of interacting with young men that will work quite well for you." Kathryn waved her half-full glass. "Say, you're in a club and you catch a young man's eye. He's watching you from across a crowded room. All you have to do is look him in the eye, give him a shy little smile, and before you know it he'll be right over to introduce himself."

"If he's not with his girlfriend," Will said.

"Or you could simply introduce yourself to people, make friends, and see if any of your friends show any interest -- or if you have any interest in them." Deanna was paying more attention to him than their guests, at the moment, peering down out of the corner of her eye. "Did you tell the kids they have babysitters tonight?"

"I didn't have to. Yves has accurately predicted this by tracking our wardrobe carefully over time."

"Since I was in uniform, and that's a new shirt...." She grinned down at him. "What a smart little detective he is."

"Perhaps I simply need new pants."

"Oh, you want to take me shopping? I'm so excited," Deanna exclaimed, in that false-cheerful way she had when she meant the opposite.

Jean-Luc pointed up at her and looked at Janeway. "This is your influence, no doubt."

"Me? Oh, no, you're the expert at sarcasm," Kathryn exclaimed.

"I've learned a great deal about sarcasm during my time aboard the _Enterprise_ ," Annika said. "Both of you are quite good at it."

"Among other things," Will muttered. Jean-Luc ignored him again, looking up at Deanna and wondering again about the choice of outfit.

"You see that look," Kathryn said, pointing at Jean-Luc and nudging Annika with her elbow. "That's what you look for. If your young man has that look when he sees you, there's your sign."

"What are you babbling about? I'm calculating trajectories," Jean-Luc exclaimed, embarrassed.

"Trajectories?" Will blurted incredulously.

"If I call the bridge and have them turn down specific inertial dampeners, and alter course in a particular way, the ship tilts and she'll fall right into -- "

Deanna tipped, turned, landed in his lap at the end of a short ungraceful slide from the arm of the chair, nearly spilling her wine. "Or you ask, and get what you want," she said.

 "There's this woman -- "

"I don't want to hear about the woman," Deanna said, sounding bored. "This first officer you keep talking about, she sounds like a horrible person, always arguing with you -- "

" -- she has a glass of wine, and she's spilling it," he continued mildly.

She flinched, swung her legs around and stood up. "Sorry."

"I promised Annika a tour, anyway. I'm a little rusty on the winery details but I can throw in a little warp physics and she won't even notice."

Annika followed him from the room, leaving Deanna to sit on the sofa with Kathryn, and as they passed out the front door Kathryn's light laughter echoed through the house. Annika kept up with him across the lawn. "Captain Riker is not comfortable," she said.

It stopped him. He turned and looked her in the eye.

"He said, when he was in Ten Forward this morning for breakfast, that you're friends. He talked about being your first officer. He said he performed your wedding and spoke of his admiration for you. I wouldn't have expected him to feel uncomfortable when Deanna expresses affection. I am not yet comfortable due to not understanding how to experience it myself, as an adult. But he is older and I would have expected him to have sufficient experience in seeing you together."

"I'm sure you were told that early experiences set the foundation for everything that comes after," Jean-Luc said.

Annika nodded. "Deanna and I have spoken at length about it. She reassured me often based on the fact that I have been able to remember most of my childhood prior to assimilation, when I was frustrated by the slowness of my recovery from the trauma."

"Starfleet can be a refuge for people who had deficits in how they were cared for as children. In some fields, in fact, it's possible to completely lack social skills and succeed in your career. Command is not one of them, but having adequate social skills does not mean you can fake having emotional stability. And focusing on command, on being an officer, for years, can be a way of avoiding the past. Success is measured in accomplishments and not relationships. That Starfleet can tell us that captains without relationships can, over time, start to have serious problems on duty. But they won't regulate personal matters."

Annika regarded him with one of her contemplative expressions for a moment, and nodded slowly. "You are telling me without giving me personal information that I cannot always expect humans to have... the expression is, have it together? That some people struggle with emotional regulation, and react differently to the behavior of others, if their childhood was in some way deficient in teaching them appropriate responses."

"It shows, I think, that both of us have had far more therapy than most," he said with a wry twist of his mouth.

She echoed the smile, and shrugged a little.

"The winery is this way. The roses on the wall here on the east side of the yard were planted by my grandfather."

"The roses remind me of the Little Prince," she said, following him across the yard and looking at the wall of blooming red, white and pink roses. "One rose out of all the roses in the universe was made unique by his attention, his love."

"So it shall ever be," he commented.

"What if it was hard for him to care for the rose, because no one cared for him when he needed it?"

Jean-Luc wrinkled his brow at her as they came around the corner of the hedge and into the yard in front of the distillery. "You're questioning the Little Prince's background?"

"He was a naive young man. He wasn't aware of how people could be -- he learned in his travels that people can develop distorted views and irrational behaviors. Perhaps he was cared for, but not well educated in such matters of importance."

"I think you're working a little too hard. Parables and stories like the Little Prince aren't intended to be so realistic -- they usually illustrate a single point or concept." He reached for the wooden handle on the heavy door.

She listened, even asked questions, while working their way through the winery, and while talking about casks, showing her the way the wine was stored and why, Jean-Luc started to feel uneasy. He decided that had something to do with Deanna, and led Annika out of the winery and around to the front of the house again.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Not that I am aware of, but I think we've been out here a little too long. And I'm a little thirsty."

From the front hall, she returned to the living room and he went to the kitchen for a glass of water. And then he heard, as he reached the front hall again, something that welded his shoes to the wood floor.

"Is it common, to express affection by frowning, or shouting, or arguing?"

A brief silence, and Kathryn answered the question. The hesitation in her voice was probably due to having to repeat something she knew Annika already understood. "Of course. Some people express it through silence, even."

"A key piece of the puzzle is how well you know each other. Some good friends can communicate through metaphor, through gesture -- in my case I know when one of my friends is thinking about me when we're not even in the same room." Deanna wasn't sounding as though she was unsure of why Annika was repeating old material.

"You told me that you don't use telepathy often," Annika said.

"I don't. Empathy has been almost as effective, however. You have, for example, a specific combination of emotions that occur when you are thinking about Captain Picard. I don't have to access the thoughts to know if you're thinking about him."

Jean-Luc went in with his glass of water. They'd rearranged themselves, and all the empty wine glasses were sitting together on the end table with the empty bottles. Deanna was in the chair he'd been in before, and Annika had returned to the sofa with Kathryn. Will looked up at him with a sober expression.

"Did I miss anything?"

Deanna stood up and smiled at him. She'd loosely braided her hair, which hung over her right shoulder and down to her hips. "Not at all. I'm going upstairs to check on the kids. Nina's frustrated." She left the room at a purposeful pace.

So he sat down in the chair she vacated, and glanced at Annika. "How do you feel about children?"

"In what context?" she asked, not allowing the question to unnerve her.

"I know you sometimes visit with Naomi. I'm questioning your level of comfort with children in general."

Annika inclined her head. "I admit to some discomfort with children I don't know. I've met your children, of course, and find them to be less... chaotic than most."

"I suppose one could say that," Kathryn said with a smirk. "I still think Yves should have a job by now."

"He does. He lets me know when his mother is upset."

"I thought you were pretty good at that, yourself," Will said.

"I believe in delegating. Oh, now, what is it, _mon chou_?" Jean-Luc exclaimed when Amy appeared in the door. Her lower lip quivered and her dark eyes glimmered with woe.

"Papa," she cried, and lunged into a run, launching herself and landing in his lap with a wail.

He was aware of Annika's subdued expression as she folded her hands in her lap and looked at the floor, while he let his little girl cry about the way the other children told her to stop trying to make them talk about what she wanted to talk about, which wasn't how she said it but the essence of the problem as it usually played out. Jean-Luc saw a similar expression on Will's face, but he watched Amy instead of looking away. And when the sobbing was over and she clung to him, too big for a lap and not caring at all, he patted her back and kissed her flyaway hair, smoothing it down, and told her she was fine. She slid down and ran her sleeve across her nose, and made a frustrated noise as she ran her hands over her head.

"Give it," he said, holding out his hand, and she pulled the hair tie out of her pocket to place it on his palm. He gathered her shoulder-length hair and swept it up to the crown of her head until he held it by the ends. "Go."

Amy spun around once, twice, and stopped when he caught her shoulder -- her hair ended up in an untidy bun and he snapped the tie around it. "Thanks, Papa," she cried, in full stride almost before she spoke.

"Does Dee know how you do their hair?" Kathryn said.

"There are some battles that don't need to be fought so hard," he replied, reaching for his glass of water. "She'll be replicating another hair clip in an hour."

"Sometimes affection is expressed through tolerating the tantrums and irrational behavior of others," Annika said. She was looking directly at Jean-Luc, now, her eyes glimmering wetly for some reason.

There had been times that he wondered how much Annika really remembered. She hadn't spoken to him of the time she had changed the programming of the remaining implant in her brain, and triggered a long series of flashbacks and nightmares. Deanna had of course never given him details of anything Annika had dealt with in therapy. When she had initiated the meetings between himself and Annika, the young lady had been quiet and submissive, slowly coming out of her shell as time passed. Her comment couldn't refer to any of that -- the only thing he could think of that she might refer to was the initial meltdown, after she had altered the programming that inhibited her emotions and had an intense flashback to being assimilated. He'd had to hold her like a child having a tantrum, to avoid letting her hurt anyone in her thrashing.

He nodded, and put his empty glass back on the table. When he glanced at Will he saw that the man had a frown that verged on a scowl. Curious.

"I suppose you've described every childhood in the history of mankind," Jean-Luc said, responding at last to Annika's comment.

"I know of some adult relationships like that," Kathryn said. She had moved to the arm of the sofa and lazed across it like a cat in the sun. "Paris and Torres were like that. She worked hard on her temper, for years, and he had a lot of patience with it, and she had infinite patience with his sometimes-immature behavior, and they have three children now."

"She's still your engineer?"

"And he's my second officer. There had to be some changes there, too, since he and Chakotay were not particularly fond of each other for a while. But I like strong-willed officers, clearly. You do, too."

He glanced at Will, but though the scowl had diminished somewhat, he said nothing. "I do indeed. Though I have not historically had much tolerance for the irrational."

"You appear to have adjusted," Will said at last, managing not to sound as frustrated as he appeared.

"Fortunately there is a great deal of help to be had, if one simply asks," Jean-Luc said, settling back to slump in the chair. "And that was something I had to learn, as well."

"Abstract knowledge isn't enough," Annika said. "I was fortunate that you were patient enough to let me fail until I learned that the hard way. It helped me a great deal with later experiences that I would have refused to have, simply because they were uncomfortable."

Kathryn was watching Annika with a smug expression, and turned to gaze at Jean-Luc, resting her chin on her arm -- she had such merry lights dancing in her eyes, that Annika had come so far from being a Borg drone that she was actively schooling Will Riker on things she'd learned.

But Will wasn't completely clueless, so it wouldn't do to let her get too carried away. Jean-Luc wondered where Deanna was -- it was enough to get her attention and bring her back, and she came into his awareness before he heard her feet on the stairs. She almost skipped in with a happy smile and rebraiding her hair.

"I was thinking about making tea," she announced. "Anyone else want a cup?"

It led to all of them moving to the dining room, with the vaulted ceiling and shining wood flooring, and instead of using the replicator she put a pot on and started setting up to steep the tea in the replica of Maman's favorite china pot. Annika stood at the cabinet against the wall on the other side of the table examining the full set of dishes and glasses and cups, so Deanna asked her to bring out some of the tea cups. Jean-Luc replicated a plate of shortbread cookies and put it on the table between Will and Kathryn.

The back door opened and Yves, carrying a book in his hand, came down the hall into the dining room. He smiled as Deanna came and gave him a hug and a kiss on the forehead. When she returned to the stove to turn off the burner as the kettle started to whistle, Yves came to Jean-Luc and hesitated -- Jean-Luc slung an arm across his son's shoulders and was surprised when Yves buried his face in his father's shoulder and wrapped his arms around him.

"You had a hard time today," Jean-Luc said.

"It's okay. Maman explained. It wasn't just her, Amy's had a terrible day too, she had a fit in school again."

"If you want to take a nap before dinner, go upstairs," Deanna said. "The others are in Amy's room playing games."

"Okay. Fidele can go play with them," Yves said, heading for the stairs. He passed behind Will and hesitated, looking a little confused, then jogged onward with Fidele at his heels.

"He'll be off to the Academy before you know it," Will commented.

"He hasn't decided yet, actually, and I don't expect him to think about it seriously for a while." Jean-Luc watched Deanna set the tray on the table and begin to pour tea in each of their cups. She sat across from him, glanced at Kathryn, and turned to Will, who looked like he was still ruminating about something.

"How are you, Will?" she asked, sounding eerily like Counselor Troi.

That thought occurred to Will as well, from the look on his face. He smiled a little. "Tired, I guess. Good to see you're feeling better."

"Nothing a little rest and a neck rub wouldn't cure," she said, picking up her cup. "Annika, you're being so quiet."

"I have a lot to think about today." Annika glanced at Kathryn, then back at Deanna. "I hope you aren't disappointed that I am delaying my application to the Academy."

Deanna's head tilted and her shoulders sank a bit. After a moment, she said, "I wouldn't be disappointed if you never went at all. The only reason I was encouraging you was because I thought you wanted to go. You can do whatever you wish, Annika, and I would support it, if it was what you truly wanted to do."

Annika's hand shook, and she quickly put down her tea cup. Her hand went to her mouth. It was obvious she was unable to catch herself before she lost control, and as tears started she moved as if to leave the room. Deanna was on her feet and catching the girl in her arms, holding her for a moment, and when it was obvious she wasn't regaining control, took her by the arm and led her out of the room.

"I suppose she still has some things to work out," Kathryn said. She watched them go with sympathetic eyes and turned to smile at Jean-Luc. "I'm glad you took her on -- I think you've actually been good for each other."

"I might have snapped at you for saying so, but it's been pointed out to me that I don't have to be that defensive. I suspect that I've learned far more over the past twelve years than I had in the previous sixty, in the fine art of actually giving a damn about people."

Kathryn scowled at him, in her amused, good-natured way. "You're going to be scolded if you keep saying things like that."

"She's right -- you always cared about people. You just had other ways of showing it," Will said.

"Well -- yes and no. It has been said, recently, that I've been ready and willing to give my life for another officer, for a friend, in the line of duty -- but it was more of an abstract thing. I cared about people, certainly. But there's more to it, since I let some of my officers become closer friends than I had before. The counselor, of course, had a lot to do with it. She made it all sound so reasonable, that it's natural and healthy to have actual relationships with people -- I tended to pretend that applied to everyone but myself, because I'd got that far without many real relationships of significant depth, after all."

"So I suppose it's a good thing I didn't bring Annika back sooner," Kathryn said. "I remember Dee telling her point-blank that if she'd come aboard earlier you would have likely had her incarcerated or shot. It took a lot to get Annika to recognize how lucky she was that you were letting her stay."

Jean-Luc sighed, ruefully thinking about the first few encounters with Annika. "I wasn't happy, even so. I think I traumatized her, trying to get her to stop getting lost in childish fits of anger and fear. It's dismaying to think of that and realize that compared to what I was before, that was me being patient."

Kathryn smirked at him and raised her tea cup to him. "You were rather curmudgeonly in my direction once or twice, but anyone who's here for more than ten minutes can figure out the way to your heart is through Deanna."

Deanna returned as she spoke, without reacting to it, and sat down again. "She's so upset with herself. I had to leave her on the porch step to calm herself."

Jean-Luc spent a moment feeling guilty about that.

"There were no easy ways to approach her," Deanna said softly. "Everything will hurt someone who's that damaged. She couldn't recognize all the ways Kathryn was telling her that she cared -- she couldn't feel that from anyone. Touching her arm made her angry. I think, even though you did it out of anger, you gave her the rules she needed to get a footing, to start to change."

"I guess I didn't realize you cared that much about her," Will said. "You mentioned her a couple of times to me but it was as though you were talking about just another crew member."

"She's not crew," Deanna said. "She's unique to him in several ways. The first civilian he's befriended, in a long time, and she just happens to be a former drone, and so damaged that we had to relabel everything we did so she could accept it from us. And now she's starting to understand everything for what it was, so we get to see her coming into her own and going through the realization that she was unable to see what was right in front of her. I don't know if you understand, Jean-Luc, how instrumental in that you really were."

Jean-Luc stared at her across the table. "All I ever did was chat with her once a week about books, or listen while she picked apart some theory about warp physics. She -- what are you looking at me like that for?"

Deanna had one of her proud, evil-scheming smiles. "Her therapy sessions were more often than not about how to have a relationship with someone. Other than Guinan, you and I have been the ones she spends the most time with in protracted discussion. She speaks directly with me about her relationship with me, because she knows she can without offending me. Guinan, too. You've been the one person who's simply been there for her, letting her sort out your relationship as it happened, naturally. And while she still reacts very strongly to Kathryn, you're the one she feels most strongly about."

He went with his usual tactic when surprised -- sit still, not move, wait for the shock to subside. 

"I would imagine so," Will said. He actually sounded serious, for once. "You tend to inspire strong feelings in people."

Jean-Luc raised his eyes -- Deanna was watching him with a sober expression. He frowned, miming disbelief.

"Except for me, of course," Kathryn said, grinning, her head resting on her fist and her elbow propped on the table next to her cup. "No feelings at all, really."

"Of course not." He happened to glance at Will, and raised an eyebrow. "Not feeling well?"

"I just...." Will raised both hands as if surrendering. "I guess when you said everything had changed, you really meant it."

Deanna gave Will one of her inscrutable looks, that asked questions.

"I know, I know, but I just haven't been around much, and I think I finally figured out what's been changing. You sound like her, some of the time. And she's an awful lot like you."

Jean-Luc laughed a little at it. "That may be the biggest compliment you've ever given me."

Kathryn chuckled. "Your old counselor told me you share the same brain, so it makes perfect sense to me."

"Given enough therapy, anyone can sound like a counselor," Deanna said, crossing her arms. "I've caught him talking like one before."

"No, this is different. I'm not talking about terminology. Sometimes there's a little of the same inflection in something you say."

"That is a compliment," Deanna said. "Number One."

Jean-Luc laughed at it, putting his hands on his head, swearing a little. It was a passable imitation. Both Will and Kathryn were grinning.

"Is it time to go yet?" Deanna asked. "I'm feeling quite hungry."

"It's dinner time, almost," Jean-Luc said, looking to Kathryn. "If you want to draft Annika to join you, or Will, feel free."

They left the holodeck without disrupting the children, heading for quarters first. Deanna leaned on him in the lift and followed close behind him until they were in the bedroom.

"Do you have a preference?"

"Wear whatever you like, Cygne."

He watched her rifle in the closet and took something into the bathroom with her without showing him. Perching on the end of the bed, he looked up to watch a Defiant class vessel go by. When she came out, he forgot about Will, or anything else, for a few minutes.

"Very much one of your better choices," he muttered, following her with his eyes on the way to get shoes. She'd found a shimmering silver sheath that clung to her curves. It complemented her more than the red outfit she'd been wearing.

"I'm glad you like it. Up, or down?" She sat with him, showing him a variety of hair ornaments she'd brought out. He helped her put combs in to pull her hair back from her face and left most of it flowing down her back.

"I made reservations at the Creole restaurant on the station," he said, leaving their quarters with his hand in the small of her back.

"I don't believe I've had that before."

"It's a little like Second Province food. I think you'll like it." They reached the nearest lift, and were surprised when Will came out. He smiled, his eyes briefly noting Deanna's appearance, and nodded to them.

"I decided to call it a night -- I'm a little tired for babysitting," he said. "And I want to call Bell before the kids go to sleep."

"Tell her we'll see her in the morning. We have a transwarp drive to test, after all."

"Thanks, Jean-Luc. She'll be happy to hear it. Marcus is a bit of a handful." Will's smile softened a bit. "You look great, Dee."

"Thank you. Have you thought about it?"

Will looked exhausted, then. "Another thing I want to talk to Bell about. Have a good evening."

After they were in the lift and on their way to the transporter room, Jean-Luc glanced at her. She shrugged a little. "I encouraged him to get counseling."

"I'm not the only one with blind spots, I suppose?"

"Welcome aboard, Captain Obvious," she intoned.

"I should stop telling you things."

"Only if you start doing things," she said with the slightest of smiles.

"The evening is young, and there is plenty of time to talk you out of the dress."

She leaned against the wall of the lift, peering through her lashes at him. "All you have to do is ask, you know."

The Promenade hadn't changed. Busy, looking like a Federation Day celebration with representatives from worlds all over the Federation, and he felt pretty good about the fact that they were able to walk from the transporters to the restaurant without being recognized. Deanna leaned against him and brushed her lips against his ear while they waited for the host to select a booth and seat them.

"It hasn't changed much," he murmured. "Though I was glad to see there were more restaurant options than the last time we were here."

"Thank you for not making me sit in the casino," she said. "Ferengi make me nervous. I can't tell what they're thinking, and while we have more than a few in Starfleet now, the more traditional ones are as untrustworthy as ever."

"You'll warn me, I hope, if anyone you used to know suddenly appears?"

Her crestfallen expression made him regret it instantly. She turned and pretended to be interested in a large potted tree on the right against the wall.

"I'm sorry, that was uncalled for."

"Understandable that you would be worried, since I seemed to have a really good sense of who could possibly come back into my life decades later and make me want to melt through the floor," she said with a sigh.

The host returned, waving them into the restaurant proper, and he was happy to see that the booth they had been led to was relatively private, with foliage around it. He sat on the same side of the table with her and put his arm around her once the host left them with a menu.

"You lectured me before on punishing myself for crimes of stupidity committed when I was too young to know better. I should have recorded it to play it back to you."

"You're right," she said softly.

"But feelings don't care about being right," he muttered. "So I should have brought a picture of the kids, and not try to make jokes about things that remind you of who you aren't, any more."

Deanna raised her head and leaned in, so they were facing each other nose to nose. The happy lights in her eyes had returned. "Thank you," she said, her hand sliding over his thigh. "Thank you for cancelling out all the terrible choices I've made. For being so determined to be what I needed."

Jean-Luc nodded. "So in fact, we do sound like each other. I've felt like that about you for years."

"I never imagined you could be this way, when I was your counselor. Or that I would ever be what I am. I suppose all of it wouldn't have happened if not for all the stupid things we've done and tried so hard to leave behind, and make better choices?"

"At least we learn." He kissed her cheek, sliding his lips along her jaw, leaning and bringing his other arm around her.

"Are we going to order?" she whispered. He drew back and realized the waiter had arrived.

"Yes -- your best Cabernet," he said, picking up the menu padd again.


	32. Chapter 32

Yves ate breakfast slowly, wishing he could have slept a little longer.

"Jean-Pierre, go brush your hair," Papa said, passing the strawberries to Yves.

"I already did."

"Go do it again, and use a brush this time."

Pierre slid out of his chair and grumbled as he headed for his room.

"Papa, can we go see the puppies after school?" Cordelia asked.

Papa stared across the table at her for a moment. Yves knew he was tired of hearing about puppies, and annoyed, but instead of acting like that, he said, "Cordelia, why are you still asking about puppies?"

"I like puppies," she said, her lip starting to tremble. "I could keep him in my room."

Now Papa was suspicious. "Are you enjoying having your own room?"

"Yes," she said, unconvincingly. She looked at her cereal and poked it with her spoon.

"You don't like sleeping alone, though, do you? I think the only times you've slept in your room all night since we moved have been when Nina and Ros are over."

Cordelia shrugged a little. Yves held out his hand; she didn't look at him, but he knew she noticed, and after a few seconds she reached out and took it. He looked at Papa, and rolled his eyes. "Fidele, do you like sleeping out in the living room?"

Fidele's head came up. He was on his mat in the corner, patiently quiet through breakfast as he was supposed to be. "I do not have a preference of where I stay at night."

"You could ask Fidele to stay with you at night," Yves said.

Cordelia blinked. "Really? You don't mind?"

Pierre returned, with his hair in a mess pretty much the same way it had been before he left. "I can't find my brush."

"It's probably in your top drawer," Cordelia exclaimed, leaving her chair. "Or you can use mine. Come on."

Papa watched the twins leave the room, and looked at Yves. "You had to know she was afraid before."

"Maman hasn't done anything about it, and she's told me plenty of times I'm not anyone's parent." Maman wanted them to figure out how to deal with things, if they could, and she hadn't been that frightened. Just a little anxious.

"Yes," Papa said, picking up his cup and sipping his coffee. "Did you have fun last night?"

"Aunt Kathy and Ms. Hansen were playing games with us -- Ms. Hansen is really good at chess. She beat Fidele."

"What do you think of her?"

Yves picked up a strawberry. "She's really anxious about what she says to us. I guess she was really upset for a while, about something, but so was Uncle Will."

Papa's feelings got complicated, for a minute, mostly frustrated but with some regret and a little hope. "He's having a tough time, right now."

"I wish he would just leave. Go back to his ship."

Papa stared at him, now, and his feelings stopped being complicated. Carefully, he said, "Why would you say that?"

"Every time he comes to visit he gets all upset, and frustrated, and then it goes away -- it's like he's one of the kids in school, with these little temper tantrums, only he doesn't show it at all and Maman never says anything about it, because all that happens is a little bit of a frown sometimes. Maman told me that she's known him most of her life and that he's like a lot of people, and it's good practice to learn how to ignore what he's feeling because that's what I have to do anyway, and I already do that a lot here on the ship. But this time he made her feel horrible and I got a headache and had to take inhibitor to make it stop, because for some reason he was really feeling hurt and angry and -- "

He had to stop talking finally, because while he was remembering the previous morning's experience, he hadn't been tracking Papa's reaction, and glancing at his face finally told him that he'd done what Maman had cautioned him not to do. He was revealing too much, and it wasn't really his place to talk about it.

But he thought about how really awful Maman had felt, and the echoes of it that she'd felt last night, even after everything apparently settled down. Will had been doing it, too, feeling upset about something, here and there, and confused once in a while, suspicious some of the time. And when Yves had been in the dining room with them after coming in from the treehouse, while he gave his parents a hug, Will had felt really sad about something. It was even more confusing when Will had been surprised when Yves had talked to Papa about what a bad day he'd had, and then suspicious. Yves wondered if Will had forgotten that Yves was an empath like Maman, somehow.

"What's wrong?" Papa asked.

"I guess I don't understand how Maman says he's a good friend. She believes it, when she says it. But it's like -- " Maman was right, he decided, he really did need to practice putting it all into words, because this sort of conversation was hard. "When you're with Maman, you're really together, like you feel what she feels and it's all that matters, being together like that. All the arguing doesn't change that at all. You can tease each other and even make fun of each other a little, but it's like that's just surface stuff. When you're with one of the other officers, or your friend Corey, it's kind of like that but on a really minimal level. If it's someone you know pretty well. Your friends who sometimes visit like Aunt Kathy, Uncle Tom and Aunt Bee, that's a little more like Maman, like the teasing and stuff is just part of the fun. The feelings are mutual and good. You get a little frustrated once in a while but it's nothing that doesn't pass. Will doesn't feel the same. He's kind of dishonest, with himself, kind of jagged inside like he wants to feel something and it just escapes him and then he gets frustrated -- sometimes he starts to feel something and it's like he thinks about something else or -- I think it's a memory, and he'll flip it off and make a joke or something to distract himself. It's like he's got this anger that just sits there, like -- remember when I did the science project about the structure of a planet, and we were trying to draw in the magma? That's what it reminds me of. All buried down under a bunch of rock and dirt where he can't really see it for himself."

Papa looked like he'd just chewed on something bitter -- but the twins started arguing loudly, and he patted Yves on the shoulder and went to intervene. And then Maman returned with Amy, after helping Amy put up her hair which had taken forever, as usual. Amy glided over to the replicator to ask for her breakfast, something Betazoid of course, and Maman returned to her coffee and bowl of fruit. She looked at him, and for a moment he thought she would comment on what she'd sensed a minute ago.

"Did you get your history assignment done?"

"Yes. The information from Memory Alpha really helped, thanks for helping me put in the request." He ate another strawberry. "Are you all right, Maman?"

She smiled at him -- warmth flooded him, wrapped him like a blanket, and he could sense Papa in there as well, and he grinned back at her. "Of course," she said, "and I know that if somehow I'm not, you'll help me be all right again. All of you."

Amy came to sit and eat, the twins returned, Papa picked up his coffee and said he'd be on the bridge -- when he leaned and kissed Maman briefly on the lips, it was like a spark of joy, and she watched Papa leave, then picked up her cup.

"Hurry up -- we don't want to be late."

\---------------------------

Jean-Luc found that transwarp was alarmingly swift. They dropped out of warp within fifteen minutes of leaving Deep Space Nine, and within minutes the _Titan_ was visible on the main viewer. He rose from his seat, and next to him Will stood up as well, grinning. There didn't seem to be any confusion or anger involved in being on the bridge, sitting in the chair he'd been in  for so long as the first officer. 

On the way to the transporter room, the happiness turned to thoughtful musing. "I'm sorry, Jean-Luc."

"About?"

"One of the things Dee told me, a long time ago, was that I am a lot like my father. It really pissed me off when she said it. I don't want to be anything like him. I realized last night that I'm actually a lot like him, I have this -- and it really hurts that it took so damn long for me to recognize that. And it -- " Will seemed to have trouble finding words, then. Jean-Luc reached over and stopped the lift, and waited.

"I have a hard time with the kids, you know?"

Jean-Luc hadn't known, and he raised an eyebrow at Will, not daring to say anything, afraid that the unshed tears in Will's voice would start to fall. 

"I guess for some reason, probably because of all that Dee said yesterday morning, I was thinking about my dad and the kids, last night, and the way you are with Yves really hit me hard. I never had -- And it really hit home that you've done the whole therapy thing, and it's really worked because I know your father -- anyway, I want to not be hard on them. I want to be there for them, and I have been as much as I could, but as John's gotten older it's gotten harder because he's just as stubborn as Dad, and me. It's easier when they're little. It's like -- I get angry, and the words that come out sound just like Dad, and -- I listen to John with your kids, and then I saw them this time without John around, and while it's not fair to compare I can't help but wonder -- "

"You need therapy, Will," Jean-Luc said quietly.

Rolling his eyes, he resorted to shoving his fingers through his hair again. "Okay. I know."

"It's not your fault."

Will closed his eyes, and a tear escaped from his right eye. 

"You're getting an earlier start on this than I did," Jean-Luc said.

Will blinked and stared at him. He might have been recovering a little. 

"It took years to get it through my head that emotions that arise spontaneously, triggered by current circumstance but unrelated to it, mean there are still traumas to be addressed. It's not magic, and it's certainly not anything unusual, or a defect in character."

Will smiled, now. "I suppose that should be obvious enough if I think about it."

"You'll be fine," Jean-Luc said simply, tapping the panel and resuming their journey to the transporter room.

"Bell will be frustrated if she doesn't see you," Will said as they approached the door. 

"You can tell her I was being a moody asshole, if it helps."

It stopped him cold. He appeared to be horrified. 

"If anything, a case could be made that I need protection from her, you know. I don't have a black belt, or telepathy."

Will looked at the floor. "Fuck," he muttered.

"Will."

Frowning, Will met his gaze. "Is there anything she doesn't tell you?"

"It's hard to say. Sometimes we just think about things, together."

Another moment of knitted brows and deep thoughts. "Okay. I can do this. I'll call you, after I've gotten somewhere, if that's okay."

"Of course." Jean-Luc turned down the corridor, heading back to the lift. He thought about what Deanna had said, about being a father figure, and hesitated. "I'm proud of you, Will. It takes a lot of strength to take that first step."

He didn't look back, but as he stepped into the lift, Deanna made contact and flooded him with warmth and love. And pride.

"Yes, well, you asked for it," he muttered aloud, smiling as the lift doors closed. "All you have to do is ask."

 

**Author's Note:**

> For those who like to download - I will be doing a final re-read and clean up of typos and inconsistencies in a few weeks, when I finish editing Far Afield. I will remove this note when I'm done.


End file.
